Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-09-13
Romantic Dnai0c Lady @A~ny-ByE Phillips Oppenheim


THE storm. Soon think they will be out
altogether. Monsieur is not angry with me?"
Not T." the genial reply Fetch an
oil lamp before darkness comes"
The young man obeyed with alacrity. 1t was
a great Joy that this noble patron was not
angry. The latter mo"ed over to examine the
switch. BY the time Toby returned with the
lamp, he was back in his place however. One
by one, the electric lamps failed.
thin pencil of light, creeping through the
window from outside, seemed to wake the
drunken man. He staggered to his feet, and
lurched over to the counter, leering at made
moiselle, who had just returned and was climb
ing onto her stool
"A good sleep!" he declared. 1T is excel
lent!"
Go and sleep some more then" she advised
him. you're still drunk"
He held on to the counter with one hand;
with the other he drew handful of 1OO-franc
notes from his pocket
who would not be drunk" he exclaimed.
IT have made wonderful business I will walk
with thee to thy door, little one"
She laughed at him scornfully.
He thrust 500 francs into her hand She
looked at the notes with metcuIous CURIOSITY
opened her bag, and dropped them in Then
she finished her drink AID slipped from her
STOOL
To the door" she warned him. as they left
the place together.
The dawn was late in coming and little was
to be seen by the feeble light of the lamp
The stranger felt in his pocket, and produced
folding black case
Another brandy from the large bottle
Toby" he ordered.
The boy turned around to the shelf His
patron leaned over, and even in that weird
light, the thread of steel in his hand glittered.
He knew exactly where TO strike, and Toby
sank on to his low stool with scarcely a
moan.
Then, for a few minutes, his aSsailant was
very busy indeed. First he bent over Toby
drew keys from his pocket and emptied
several drawers. Afterward he listened at
tentively TO the stertorous breathing of Pere
Delous in his corner, and finally passed through
the swinging doors.
For few minutes the place was empty ex-
cept for Pere Delous, who woke up once TO
gaze with surprise at an unexpected stain upon
his coat sleeve. Then the door swung open.
The drunken man lurched in stumbled to his
bench, and lay there. The silence Of the cafe
was re-established. Outside, the rain had
lessened, but the wind was moaning down the
narrow streets.
Again the door was opened. Mademoisene
Anna staggered in. She looked across at the
drunken man and laughed made her way TO
her favorite stool at the bar, climbed on TO
it, and glanced downward Toby in that un-
certain light, might seem to have been sleep
ing, but perhaps she guessed.
Once again. and for the last time that night,
u
FAINT streak Of leaden daylight, and a gust of
the wet storm. Peter Hames paused TO shake
the rain from his dripping macintosh
Wake up, Toby" he enjoined, advancing q
step or two nearer the bar. My is broken
down at the bottom Of the hill, and 1 am wet
through unkering with 1t. glass of the best
brandy, quickly"
After tea was served in the studio of the villa
upon the slopes OF IL Turbie, and o'clock
cocktails followed. The footsteps of Peter
Hames' temperamental butler fell upon the air.
Undoubtedly he had done well to admit the
importunate lady.
THE mistral had passed, and Beausoleil was
justifying its very beautiful name Down
the sunlit thoroughfare walked Monsieur
Charles Dutroyen, the prosperous and enter
prising druggist. the fame of whose business
had carried so far that visitors even from the
most aristocratic parts of the principality
climbed the hill to buy his wares. Beausoleil
is the poor relation of Monte Carlo, and very
few of its tradespeople could afford that daily
promenade of Monsieur Charles Dutroyen
Every morning, with the midday closing Of
his ever-increasing establishment, he discarded
the overalls which protected his somber pro-
fesSional clothes, accepted well brushed hat
from the hands of his housekeeper selected a
cane, and made his way down to the Cafe de
Paris. Every morning, he took his aperitif in
the closed Brasserie, or out in the sunshine,
according to the weather, and nearly every
morning he ordered his luncheon from an at
tentive maitre d'hotel
On this particular morning his st. Rafael
Quinquina had never tasted better, and the
menu was to his liking-a delicious truite
bleue, ribs Of veal cooked in the Italian FASH
ion, trifle of cheese, and q pint of Turpin
Monopole. It was the luncheon of an epicure!
Monsieur Charles Dutroyen glanced impa-
tiently at the clock. 1t wanted still five min
uteS OF the hour at which he was accustomed
to seat himself. This morning, he decided,
rising To feet ha anti ciraf