The Birmingham age-herald., 1921-06-04
Al Cupid's Call
 By MAY CHRISTIE
Copyright. iszl by tn. Meclur. Newspaper syndie.s.
LXVI-Kismet's Game"

, least, he told me he was going. He said there was something that he wanted to borrow"
 This was a stroke of luck for Julian and Eve, the plotters. At a sign from Julian Eve ran up the stairs to find her guardian. She hadn't drawn him to this spot--he'd gone there of his own volition. He must be within close range of the roll of stolen bills!
 She hurried down the corridor that led to Mary's room. The door was open, and rays of bright morning sun shine fell aslant the carpet
 Darlington Bellairs was standing near the little fireplace. He was ar : ranging a great sheaf of brown and gold chrysanthemums in a vase.
 And he was smiling too.
 Eve was satisfied that he would smile still more when he discoveree, lis missing money. No doubt he was here for that particular purpose. She would very soon find out.
 Hello" She looked brightly at her guardian. T forgot to tell you that MT. Dick Calardin is coming here to dine tonight-at least l asked him yes terday.'
 Did you indeedr' Benairs did not seem interested. When did you meet him-yesterday?'
 Before breakfast-when I was out riding with MT. Vandaveer.' Bellairs smiled a little oddly
 q sa whim later in the day, and he made no mention of your invitation" The man went on arranging the flow CTS upon the mantelpiece, and didn't look at Eve.
 "Oh, but of course he's coming!" '1s he, indeed"
 "Why. guardie, what's the matter?" Eve assumed a babyish air of wonder ment. Darlington was not generally so morose.
 q wish you wouldn't call me guar die.'" His voice was curt. After all, you're no child Eve. And the baby role is much too young for you! l wish you'd try 10 take a more serious intelligent view of life--to cultivate your mind bit. Then maybe you'd attract some worth while man. A present no really worth while chap would waste his time on you.'
 Miss Eve reddened. And her temper rose.
 You mean that you wish to borrow my prerogative, and assume the youth fulnessr' Her lips curved in 8 sheer, Too young to be my guardian, are you? But not too young to play the part of lover to your typist-"
 Be silent girl!" He turned on her, so violently that Eve recoiled. "An- other word, and I'll turn you from the house! And let me tell you one thing" he glared at her--'the typist, as you call her. is worth thousand of such empty-headed little nincompoops as youv
 Eyes breath departed temporarily from her, as also did her usual poise. This was new, unknown Bellairs!
 He could not possibly have discov- cred the loss of the $500. He could hot possibly suspect Miss Mary Drew.
 But what was he doing, then, in Marys boudoir?
 Eyes bewildered glance roamed to the mantelpiece. And there 1t halted. For at one end, behind the mirror, peeped roll of folded papers.
 small, Triumphant smile lighted her shallow little face. Miss Mary Drew--that paragon of goodness, clev- erness and general attraction--would have to explain. the presence of this roll of bills.
 Darlington Bellairs' glance followed Eyes. He was thoroughly angry. with the presumptuous girl. How dare she speak of Mary Drew and ofhimself as l she had done? To thinl. that such 3 little penniless nobody would be so utterly fmpertinent! Her underhand- edness. too, annoyed him greatly.
 Mary Drew had told him of her mid
 
 Eve--or that confounded black seryau. o1 Fandaveer's, the Cingalee. He'd fling Vandaveer and the Oriental out at once--yes-and Eve, too, if she an- noyed him any further.
 He had come up to Mary's sitting room to discover what the midnight prowlings. had betokened. Immediately be had seen the roll of bills Bellairs was no fool He soon put two and two together.
 This was Eyes clumsy scheme. or course It was. Vandaveer had possibly aided and abetted her. Well, it was like their impudence.
 Bellairs leaned forward and dexter- tusly flicked the roll of bills from their supposed hiding-place. He turned to Eve. the package in his hand.
 So this is what you've stolen from my saIe" he sneered. And now you want to put the guilt on Mary Drew-- you oiundering, clumsy little thief!'
 Monday-Suspicion