Evening star., 1934-02-18
INSTALLNIENT XIV.

intricate nature Of the one which
is here being related, there occurs
i point where the conscientious
historian finds it expedient To
hold sort of parade or inspection
of the various actors in the drama
which he Is unfolding. It serves to
keep the records straight. and Is a
convenience to a public to whom he
wants to do the square thing. Here,
then. "a where everybody was at the
moment M Of Packy ,n Eranklyn's arrival a,r Al
what, being there, they were doing.
Mrs. Gedge was in the office of her
lawyer in London. His operations
on her behalf in the matter of eva
sion of English income tax had dis
satisfied her, and she was talking
pretty straight to him.
Lady Beatrice Bracken was in the
garden of her fathers seat, Worbles,
the third time Packy's letter announc-
ing his departure for ST. Rocque.
Well knowing that resort to be a
hotbed of gambling and full of the
most undesirable characters notably
the Vicomte de Blissac, she thorough
ly disapproved Of his choice of desti-
nation. AS she read, she froWned.
AS she frowned, she tapped her foot.
And as she tapped she said, Hin" &"
And she meant it. too.
Mr.. Gordon Carlisle, known to Soup
Slattery and their friends as Oily,
was looking more gentlemanly than
ever in a new hat, new shoes, new
suit, and a gardenia, as he stood on
the deck of the steam packet Ante
lope, watching the red roofs of st.
ROGUE grow more and more distinct
as the vessel approached them in the
afternoon sunlight. The new suit
case which lay beside him bore a
label on which a keensighted by
stander might have read the legend
m lie due de Pont-Andemer.
Soup Slattery was at the Casino.
His overnight experience had made
his head little heavy first thing in
the morning, but pick-me-up of his
own invention had soon put that
right, and he was now feeling fine.
He was pointing cautiously at one
of the chemin- defer tables, and, if
the matter is of any interest, was
slightly ahead of the game.
The Vicomte de Blissac was not in
quite such good shape. AS he lay in
bed in his room at the Hotel des
Etrangers, staring at the ceiling and
starting convulsively whenever foot
step approached his door, he was suf-
fering a good deal Of discomfort
through the activities of some unseen
person who would persist in running
white-hot skewers through his eye
balls. This, taken in conjunction with
the fact that at any moment he was
expecting the door to burst open and
the arm of the law to reach in and
haul him off to prison on a capital
charge, was having rather de.
pressing effect on the unfortunate
young man.
Mr.. Gedge had returned to the
drawing room sofa. He was groaning
Q little.
Senator Opal was taking brisk
walk in the grounds.
Blair Eggleston was in the servants
quarters of the chateau, broodingly
brushing the spacious seat Of the
Senator's dress trousers. He was not
happy But then Senator Opals
Wallets never were.
Miss Putnam, Mrs. Gedge's social
secretary, was in the library doing a
crossword puzzle, a form of mental
exercise to which she was much ad-
dicted.
The cook was asleep.
The butler was writing to MS
mother.
Midway, Mrs. Gedge's maid, her
duties concluded, proposed to go and
relax down by the lake with the mys-
tery novel which she had begun read
ing on the previous evening
Packy was looking for Jane.
And Jane was standing on the
rustic path which wound its way
along the hillside on which the
chateau was situated, gazing thought
fully down at the harbor.
And as she stood scanning the view
beneath her, her heart was troubled.
Today, for the first time since sud-
den love had thrown them into each
others arms, she had found herself
beginning to wonder if her Blair was
quite the godlike Superman she had
supposed. There even flashed through
her mind a sinister speculation as to
whether, when you came right down
to it, he wasn't something of pill.
The thought did no more than pop
out of her suoconsciousneSs and back
again in an instant, but it had been
there, and it left her vaguely un-
easy.
In these last few days, Blair Eggle-
ston had undoubtedly not been show
ing himself at his best. Constant as
sociation with Senator Opal had in
duced in him a rather unattracttve
peevishness. Querulousness and self
pity had marked him for their own.
At their stolen meetings, when Jane
would have preferred to talk Of love,
he showed a disposition to turn the
conversation to the subject of his per-
sonal misfortunes and keep 1t there.
And 1t is trying for a sensitive and
onnantic girl, when she comes fitting
through the laurels in the quiet even
fall to join her lover, to find that all
ne proposes to discuss is her fathers
habit Of throwing oatmeal at him IN
the bed room.
All this, however, Jane could nave
forgiven, had he but come through
with a red-hot scheme for retrieving
the fateful letter from Mrs. Gedge.
Fut if it is true that the hour pro-
ouces the man, it is also true that
it remorselessly reveals the washout.
As a schemer, Blair Eggleston had
proved entirely negligible. He had
no constructive policy of any kind to
rut forward. He might just as well
not have been there.
Reluctantly, Jane came to the con-
clusion that what she needed in a
like this was somebody
more on the lines of Packy Franklyn.
There, she felt, was man Of action,
a man who could be relied on at least |
10 try to start something. She |
thought wistfully of Packy. With a
sudden whole hearted intensity she
wished that he were here now, and,
looking up, saw that he was. She
felt a little as Aladdin might have
done if she had rubbed his lamp by
accident.
"Xcul" she said.