Evening star., 1941-03-30

aVOWdl OIL lONe-COulQ II nave DeSil
only the raving of sick man? No,
she wouldn't believe that. Any more
than she could doubt the reality of
his invention Yet she remained
deeply disturbed, sleepless, and a
little frightened.
She determined to take counsel
with her guardian next morning.
But, before dawn, she fell into deep
slumber. When she aWoke, Sir John
had left for his office.
On impulse, she phoned DR.. Mac
Donald "Dnna fret, lassie,' said
he, after she had confded her mis-
givings. 1T so happens I'm on the
staff of that hospital. III have a
look at your young lieutenant"
AS Brinda turned from the phone,
she almost bumped into the angular
dour figure of the housekeeper.
"A letter for you Miss" Walker
put a stealthy, sepulchral quality
into the simple words. ut came by
the morning post"
The housekeeper watched cur
iously as Brinda took the heavy
envelope and tore 1t open.
A Letter From Vaslav.
It was from Prince Vaslav, Con-
ecious of Walkers inquisitive gaze,
Brinda waited until she was in her
room to read it. Unlike his previous
communications the tone was al
most business like. There would
be another ballet rehearsal the fol-
lowing evening-this time for prin-
cipals only. 1t was trusted she
would find it convenient to attend,
and would advise him. Only the
signature. hourishing "VaslaV,"
was informal.
Brinda studied note and signature
thoughtfully. In the furry OF events,
she'd almost forgotten the prince,
There was Dick, too somehow,
she didn't feel like dancing now.
Besides, she found the thought OF
Vaslav less intriguing than 1t had
been. Yet she had promised and
she couldn't well get out OF 1t with
out some kind of explanation. she
started several notes, but they all
seemed abrupt. After all, he was
prince. and prince VINO hao
showered her with admiration ana
courtesy. At last, tearing up her
previous notes, she wrote simply
that she would come. But, al tne
same time. she resolved she would
attend the rehearsal only TO tell MIN
personally what she could not gra-
ciouslv write--that he would nave
to find a new queen for his ChesS-
board Ballet.
Encouraging News.
On her way out to post the letter
she saw the stocky, thick-set hgure
and massive head OF DR.. MacDoh-
aid. He was leaving his coupe
marked. Brinda remembered Win
shudder almost at the spot "here
Kenlev had met his death:
Brinda called eagerly to him.
"Ah, it's you. lassie!' He eyed
her approvingly from oeneatn ouSilS
brows. .,.a
the physicians countenance'
ave lass. And there's naugnt 10
fear. I'll stake my reputation tlle
voung mon will be out OF the nos
nital in a fortnight
All at once, the gray London Gay
became radiant.
Tell me more. Please!'
"There's little more to tell, SAID
the doctor. The young mon eoC
bad crack on the head, ana tnere
roroe congestion from the fractured
ribs. which is Irresponsible LOT ms
r-running a temperature. Hes hlgn
strung, too. and he's been under
heavy nervous strain. That means
twill be best if he has no exclCe-
nent till his temperatures down.
He turned toward his car.
do I come under the head OF ex-
eitement?" asked Brinda. smlllns
The doctor eyed her critically
classic" he said, letting IN the
clutch, as a conscientious dlagnos-
tician. I'm compelled to say that
YOU most emphatically do
As the coupe ratified on its way,
Brinda realized she did not know
vet whether Dick had been IN 1ul
nossession of his faculties when ne
raved about his Z-ray and its pos
sibilities applied to long-range tele-
vision. But it didn't matter. the
important thing was that he would
get well.
Thinks Back On Mata Hari.
That night. Brinda waited late to
talk to Sir John. But these were
busy days at the Intelligence Once
and it was nearly midnight when ne
came home. While the wounds IN
f1icted by the unknown assallant at
Lord Mountwyns had healed, the
Intelligence chief was still far from
his usual indefatigable self, and
his face was marked by care ana
WEAKNESS. Brinda forebore to bur-
den him with further worries, con-
tenting herself with seeing he went
promptly to bed. 1t was not Sasy
for her to talk to him anyway these
davs. 1t was as though that untor-
tunate mention of Mata Har1 mad
raised some invisible barrier be-
tween them.
Mata Hari! Strange how the
ghost of that woman spy lived on.
People forget most other World War
names. but not those four exotic
svllables-soft and liquid as desert
gong. What had she really been
like? A mixture Of nationallties,
Brinda recalled having read some
vhere-Dutch, French, a trace OF
Javanese. A dancer, A courtesan'
too-a woman who lured traitorous
French officials into disclosing Allied
military secrets which, in turn, she
sold TO the German Intelligence.
II was right. no doubt, that she
should have died as she did-before
the rifles Of a French firing squad.
Put,-what sort OF woman had she
been before she became spy? Had
she ever truly loved? Had She per-
haps AT some time, been married,
borne children?
Brinda Makes Discovery.
But who cared? To history, 1t
was enough that she was new SYM
bol Of fatal feminine lure-a mod
srn prototype OF Helen or Cleo