Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-09-06

other pictures and photographed!
And the blackmailers had demanded
huge sums of money from their vic
Tins for these dreadful pictures.
But curiosity, as we'll as a queer
intuition, was aroused.
The French girl gave the taxidriv-
er the address in Mulberry Street.
And when they reached it, Jean fol-
lowed her up the dark, rather smelly
stairs.
A key was inserted in the lock on
the third floor back. Light flooded
poorly furnished but clean room. It
had couch in one corner. A screen
in another.
Because she was taking no more
chances than she had to, Jean snap
ped from the threshold: "What's back
of that screen over there?"
Look" The girl drew it aside. An
old-fashioned sink, with a single cold
water faucet. "This is all the kitchen
and bathroom that I have, Miss Gar
rett." On the extension of the sink
stood two-burner gas stove, with
rubber tubing.
"And what's behind that curtain 2"
asked Jean wheeling round.
"My clothes" There were no cup
boards. No icebox. On the narrow
fire escape outside the window stood
a milk bottle and covered bowl.
Two chairs were drawn to table,
and behind that was a shelf, with
bright cheap dishes. Against one wall,
shabby, foreign-looking trunk.
Jean thought: "This is no dream
home for French gold digger!"
She said tartly: $50 this is what
you came to America for?"
"No. I had a reason. Will you
please sit down? You remember the
night you were at the club with Mr..
Alden, you asked me why I picked
such place to work? It was for the
same reason that brought me to Amer
lea, Miss Garrett-to meet your
"And who are you?" Jean wryly
inquired.
The girl drew herself up. ~ am
Gabrielle de Fleury." She watched
Jean intently.
"That conveys nothing to me-"
Jean said.
miss Garrett, you have not heard ."
Heard what?"
"That my mother, who is also your
mother, married my father, Etienne
de Fleury, at the outbreak of the
World War, in Paris, where she was a
poor American governess?"
"How dare you invent such a crazy
tale?"
The other went swiftly to the trunk.
Unlocked it. Drew out a shabby
leather box. 1t looked as if once it
might have been a jewelcase. She
brought it to Jean.
"You will sit down by me on the
COUCH" Jean compiled. Humor her
and get it over with. She'd been a fool
to come here. The girl was undoubt-
eddy crazy.
Gaby pressed spring in the box
and up flew the lid. On the lids
satin lining, in faded gold lettering
name was scrawled.
"Read it," Gaby ordered.
Jean looked closely. Laurel de
Fleury." That was odd!
"And this" Gaby removed tissue
wrapping from gold watch. On the
back was inscribed: "To Laurel from
Etienne-June goth, 1915"
"My father gave it to my mother,
who is your mother, to commemmo-
rate the day I was born," Gaby said.
Jean flashed: "But there's the heck
of a mistake here! Mothers first
husband was Eugene Garrett-Gene
Garrett, my father-who was killed
in action in the Fall of 1918, as I
already told you at the club"
Something like CLEAN of pity
came into the other girls dark eyes.
"Be prepared that what I am going
to tell will hurt you. My father di-
vorced our mother because she ran
away with Gene Garrett, your father!"
Jean sprang to her feet. "That's
libel! How dare you'll"
"My poor sister, be calm. I have
the proofs here in this box" Gaby
drew her down to the couch. First,
this wedding picture. We lived forty
kilometres from Paris in beautiful
chateau. 1t was turned into a hos
pital for the wounded. 1t was there
that Laurel de Fleury nursed the
American soldier, Gene Garrett. At
ter she disappeared, my father de-
stroyed all pictures of the wedding,