Evening star., 1935-01-20
CHAPTER THREE.
BY MARY SYNON.

CHAPTER THREE.
MBITION. That was the way!
n She grasped at the straw of
II idea as she reviewed Kim's
4 \ career and her own part in it.
He had been so eager, so
| buoyantly sure of his future when
she'd come to know him. Shed been
| in touch with some of the men OF his
world-no daughter of Athabaska Oil
| going to school in Paris could fail to
meet career men of one sort or an
other-but no one of them had been
as stubbornly, ,as flamingly deter
mined as Kim Cornish. Shed been on
her way back from Paris and he on his
way from Geneva when they'd met on
the boat. Not his ardor as much as
! her quick belief in the unity of their
destinies had brought them into New
York engaged to each other. Shed
married Kim, and gone with him on
their honeymoon to that Orocaizo that
| had since become the worlds capital
of oil. A frontier OF infinite possibil-
tiles to any diplomat, it lifted its
towers of opportunity higher than its
derricks. And now Kim was quitting
a lifetime job for vagrant wnim of
Springtime!
"He can't" Cynthia told herself
grimly. st won't let him run out on
me this way"
Notes.-The cancatenation Of sounds
! germane to these Washington recep-
| tions--beat against her mind blurring
her thought The marimba orchestra,
replacing the Marine Band, thrummed
rhumba rhythmS in tense, inevitable
insistence. The macaws near the foun-
tain shrieked wildly. The din of voices
the Americans growing shriller, the
Latins deeper in excitement-Surged
around her. She was seeking Geoffrey
Shannon'S eye in command to get her
out of it, when Mrs. Gaynor's voice
lifted sharply to halt her.
Did you read" the woman from
Orocaizo was asking her, "the story in
this mornings paper about me? 1t
said that my second husband hadn't
been a British Foreign Office man at
all, but a cowboy on an Atheabaskan
ranch"
Wasn't hep" In her preoccupation
she hadn't noticed the flagrancy Of
Daisy Gaynor's query nor the neces-
sity of parrying it. Too late she re-
membered that she had known and
told the story. Some one had passed
it on to her the last time she had
been out at Resurrection Dome. Daisy
Hobart, Just divorced from her first
husband and on her way to more
highly profitable marriages, had licked
up the man of the range for a brief
martial episode. Cynthia had heard
the story, and forgotten 1t until some
thing Mardi Freer said yesterday when
she'd asked her to meet Mrs. Gaynor
had brought it back to her mind. She
had told it to Mardi laughingly, friend
to friend, with no thought of its pos
Sible broadcaSting. How on earth had
it got into newspaper? Surprise
jerked her out of her lassitude of mis-
cry. Where did you read it?" she
asked Mrs Gaynor
in Dixie Decatur's column" Her
tone was aspish. Her eyes accused
Cynthia of having been the direct
means of the story's publication.
How do you suppose she got it?"
She turned to Mardi, eXpectant of a
puzzled wonder like her own. Instead,
Mardi was staring at her with hardly
hidden hostility. DO you know Dixie
DECATUR"
Il never saw the woman" Cynthia's
subconSciouS mind caught the panic
in her tone. What had Mardi to do
with this Dixie Decatur, the pseu-
donymed columnist whose gossip of
Washington ran in the New York
World-Banner, to be syndicated in a
score of newspapers? Was Mardi one
of her tipsters? Selling her birthright
of friendships for the red pottage of
payment? Recollection of incidents,
hardly noted in their passing, stalked
back to convince her. Stories she'd
told Mardi and read later under the
Dixie Decatur signature. QuipS, jibeS,
ridicule of great and near-great, all
etched in Mardis own acrid phrases.
The playing up of Dysart. OF course
she was Dixie Decatur!
Fear of Mardi'S power in this secret
cabinet of reputation making and
reputation breaking rose higher in
Cynthia than immediate fear of Daisy
Gaynor'S rancor.
If Dixie Decatur were writing Dy-
sart's praises. Mardi Freer wanted
Dysart to win the job. She was, then,
more than treacherous. She was dan
gerous. Cynthia felt she must break
away. She had to escape from Mrs.
Gaynor's hard voice, from Mardi'S
hard stare. But when she would have
fled she found Dysart close to her.
She could not ignore him without
being rude. you know the SavedraS,
don't you?" she asked him.
"Only Sonora Savedra." His tone,
like his tie, was impeccable. William
Mosely Dysart must have been an
impeccable child. He would certainly
be an impeccable old man, an orna-
ment to his government at home or
abroad. He had been born, Cynthia
felt as he bowed to her, to kiss Bona
venturan hands, and she wondered
what his wife thought Of his fault
lessness. you're married, aren't
you?" It was the only query she
could summon.
II haven't that happiness" he muir
INJURED.
"Oh, Mr.. Dysart, aren't you?" Daisy
Gaynor thrust in. From the gleam
in her eyes Cynthia read her thought.
A bachelor in the Bonaventuran min
istry. What q chance for her to play
hostess! Did Dysart know what
trump he held? Already he had Mardi
Freer's aid. He'd have Mrs. Gaynor
Y1ouy nvsart certainlv had a horse-