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Show The Mystery Road j - By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM . ' OojrjrrffM hf Llttla, Brawn Co. , . there Is the possibility that I may be of service to you." -' Madame de Ponlere opened a plain pair of lorgnettes and looked fur a moment at Herald. : "For (in Englishman." she remarked coolly, -you seem to have some- manners. man-ners. Who is this, Pauline?" There was the fall.test possible Indication In-dication of a smile on Pauline's llps.: "Ills name Is Lord Douibey,' . she answered demurely. "He Is the son of the earl of Hlnterleys." "Dear me I" Madame de Ponlere murmured. "The earl of Hlnterleys," Pauline continued, "Is one of the lesser English Eng-lish noblemen.". ... , ... Notwithstanding his anxiety, Gerald's Ger-ald's sense of humor was touched. If , only his father could have been standing at his side to assist In the conversation with these two shabbily dressed ladles! . . "Our titles are, at any rate, not un duly modern," he pleaded deprecat-Ingly. deprecat-Ingly. "Besides, is this of uny'real consequence?" "What precisely do you want of us?" the older lady asked, after a slight hesitation. , "The privilege of renewing my acquaintance ac-quaintance with you both," Gerald replied, re-plied, j "You have done so," Madame de I'onlere reminded lilin. "With permission to pay my respects re-spects at your London residence," he urged. "We do not receive In London." was the curt reply. "I trusty Gerald persisted, "that you will make un exception in my favor." Pauline suddenly Intervened. There was a shade of hnutenr In' her manner, hut some frankness. ' "My dear aunt." she said, "there are certain things which It Is Impossible to conceal. J'My aunt and L" she went on, addressing Gerald, "are living In some Impossible rooms In an Impossible Impos-sible hotel In South Kensington. I see no reason, however, why we should not receive you there, If you are In earnest In your desire to call. We are without acquaintances In this cliy." Madame de Ponlere closed her lorgnettes lorg-nettes with a little snap. "We are staying at Number 28, Er-rUton Er-rUton Gardens, South Kensington," she said. "I believe they call the place the Errlston Gardens hotel." "If you will permit me," Gerald suggested, sug-gested, "I will bring my sister to call upon you when she Is In town. In the meantime, may I venture upon a daring suggestion? You are without acquaintances acquain-tances In town ', so, for these few days, am I. Will you do me the great honor of dining at KaneWgh tonight with me? We shall escape this Insufferable heat and be able to listen to music out of doors." "I regret that It Is Impossible, sir," Madame de Ponlere replied. Gerald was naturally quick witted. There were many little things he bad already noted. 1 . - "Mademoiselle." he ssld, turning to Pauline. "I beg you to Intercede with your aunt. I do not Invite you to one of tht established restaurants. The great charm of Ranelagh Is Its Informality. Infor-mality. The people who hsve been playing tennis and golf stsy on to dine, with some trifling change In their attire. I myself should hare to ask you to excuse my remaining In morning morn-ing dress. It Is a convention of the place." "Milord Dombey doubts our wardrobe," ward-robe," Pauline remarked, with a faint smile. "No," she went on hastily, "please do not think we are offended. I think your discretion Is admirable. And. aunt. I beg of you. let us seeept Lord Dombey's Invitation. Think how much we are suffering from the heat Think of our stuffy room, our unspeak able dinner! In short. I Insist." "If you will allow me. I will call for you at a quarter to eight," Gerald proposed, pro-posed, turning to Madame dt Ponlere. TO BE CONTINUED.) CHAPTER Xli-lContinued '. V . . is-:'- "s. ... , "Please don't" Christopher begged, "Myrtlle moat come. I can't always be In the way. Tonight I am. ' Tonight, To-night, at ar,y rate, you have a reprieve. Myrtlle!" , She stooped for her cloak. . Christopher Chris-topher nrrnnged It around her shoulders. shoul-ders. His fingers shivered at the touch of the filmy laciness, as though he .loathed it. "You are reudy, Myrtlle?" he nsked. " She looked once more at Geruld. He seemed so fur away. And was It her-fancy, her-fancy, or was there-something In bis fsce which she had seen In the faces of those others? lie lit a cigarette ostentatiously.: os-tentatiously.: ", i ; "Tou , had ' better go, Myrtlle." he suliU ' "Christopher bus the. whip hand of us. ' W can't have a row here." "Goodby, Gerald," she faltered. "It Isn't my fault." . . '"Of course not,"" Gerald answered. "We are all a little overstrung, I think. Goodby, little one!" , He'klssed her almost carelessly and nodded to ChrtBtopher. The two left the room. The music hod ceased. - They walked through the empty streets In silence. Whep they arrlvpd within n few yards of Myrtlle's lodgings, lodg-ings, Christopher slackened his pace. Myrtlle was crying quietly. . "Myrtlle," he begged, "please listen to me." "I am listening," she told him drearily. "This morning at eight o'clock 1 shall be here to take you to the station. Please leave behind the clothes you are wearing, and I will return them to Madame Lenore. You will go to London, Lon-don, and Lady Mary will take ;cnre of you. Lady Mary is Gerald's sister. Do you understand?" , "Yes." she faltered. "Please don't think of me as sn executioner," exe-cutioner," Christopher went on, with a note of unusual feeling In his tone. "Love Is a very wonderful thing, Myrtlle, but It Is also a very dangerous paradise. If you care for Gerald, and he cares for you, believe me, some day, you will belong to one another and you will be happy, but the love which brings happiness Is not of a moment's mo-ment's growth, it Is not a matter of feeling only. Today you love Gerald with your whole soul. Gerald has simply an affection for you. You are a whim to him, a child whose softness and prettlness attracts him. The kingdom king-dom of love Is a wonderful place, but no two people who are In the position of you and Gerald can enter It by the lower gates. If you are faithful, remember re-member this. A year or two of life will bring womanhood to you, and you will understand just what was larking tonight. Just what, In a corner of your heart Myrtlle, I believe that yon guessed was lacking. That something would have poisoned even your won-lerful won-lerful happiness. You must wait dear. Nothing In the world will keep you and Gerald apart If your love for one another an-other becomes the love that endures." Myrtlle crept away without a word. For an hour Christopher waited, unseen, un-seen, at the darkened corner of the street. He waited until he saw the light go out In Myrtlle's room. Then he went back to the hotel, changed his clothes and rested for a couple of hours. , When he returned to her room, she was waiting for him, dressed In her little blue serge suit, mutely pathetic. pa-thetic. Christopher carried her small hag and they made their way to the station. "Myrtlle," he said, as they stood together, to-gether, watching the train coming round the bay, "this morning I think that you are hating me. You think me very cruel. Try and not Judge me for a year." "I think that yon mean well," she sighed, "but you do not understand." Christopher put money Into her purse and took her up to where Lady Mary was stondlng with her little ar-riy ar-riy of dependents. She spoke n few-kindly few-kindly words to Myrtlle, who answered her politely hut without any truce of feeling In her tone. Myrtlle sat down on one of the trunks and looked steadily stead-ily across at rtie sleeping white-fronted hotel. Christopher and Lady Mary walked for n moment apart. "I lon't know why I am doing this thing for you." Mnry sold. "If you wnrted to know the truth. 1 dislike the young woman Intensely." "If you ean't feel that you are doing If for my sake." Christopher replied, "think that you are do'ng It for Gerald's." Ger-ald's." Lady Mary stared at him for a moment, mo-ment, nnd Christopher fancied that he could mid In her somewhat hauirlity look some trace of that patrician superstition sup-erstition which claimed for lis people the bodies and souls of their satellites. The train thundered In. "You will come and se me In London?" Lon-don?" he asked a little softened. "H'rectly I return." bo promised "I shan't forvet lids, Mnry." he ad. lid. a lltt'e awkwardly. "You've been a brick." She smiled, curiroi-ly grail tied nt Ms ItcMtulliur words Christopher leaned toward Myrtlle. ' Coodl'.v, M- '-tit;- be -M She removed her eve f ri.m tl-e ,n-j ,n-j dow f,ir u tnono-nt. I "fjoodby. Cbr,s'!-be.r." cbe t.n I rrpd --J looked Unci jtntn nt the I white building, with Its irrepulor front and close-drawhj curtains. Behind one of them Geruld was sleeping. With a cloud, of black suiuke and a succession of bourse, sobbing pants, the long train sfeumed slowly out, of. the stutlon. BOOK TWO Chapter I Gernld had i been lunching at the Hyde Park hotel ana was on bis wn to pay a call in Curzon street. Hence his progress through the sun-baked and dusty park at 3 o'clock on a Saturday Sat-urday afternoon1 In August. Christopher, Christo-pher, who had been his fellow guest cnught him up as he hud reached the shtdter of the trees. The two young men were apparently still on the same friendly terms. No one but them delves realize 1 the slight cloud .which had never wholly passed away from between them since the night In Gerald's Ger-ald's sitting-room at the Hotel de Paris, eighteen months ago., Christopher took his friend's arm lightly. He had made several attempts at-tempts to break through the slight restraint re-straint that existed between them, and Gerald's nppeffriace these days rather troubled him. He was thinner, his eyes were restless, his manner a little nervous. He had not the appe.'.iance of being the spoiled child of fortune that he certainly was. "I wonder you don't get fed up with the London crowd," .Christopher remarked. re-marked. . v ' i "I very nearly am," Gernld con-! con-! fessed. "They were much more amusing amus-ing In the old days, before they took up marriage as a hobby. Now the most flagrant little hussy begins to talk about her people In the country and St. George's. Hanover square. If you hold her fingers. It's all the fault of these callow youths Chrlstopher-r great heavens I" , , They had passed the Achilles statue and were making toward Stanhope gate. The crowd here seemed more spiritless than ever. In chairs a tittle way pack and apart from the others, two women, dressed In plain black, were seated. One was elderly, the other young. Boh were weary, both sat there wdth, the air of 'wishing to avoid observation. . To Christopher they were entirely unfamiliar. His whole attention was absorbed by Gerald's Ger-ald's strange demeanor. Gerald's long fingers hsd gripped his arm painfully. For the first time In months, there was a real feeling In his face. "It's Pauline!" he exclaimed. "Walt for me, Chris." Without hesitation, Gerald turned and threaded his wsy among the chairs. The two women watched his approach, the older one with stolid Indifference, In-difference, Pauline apparently with some faint resentment Gerald, however, how-ever, In these lust few second had become be-come a very determined peison. He stood before them with his hat In his hand. Ills bow was lower than Is customary cus-tomary among English people. His manner could scarcely have been more respectful If he had been paying his homage at Buckingham palace. "May I be permitted to recall myself my-self to the recollection of Madame de Ponlere?" he begged. The woman looked at htm with un-recogulzlng un-recogulzlng eyes. The lsst eighteen months hsd dealt hardly with her. The flesh had sagged a little from her cheek bonea, her mouth had become bitter, her throat was thin, her eye cold and glassy. . "You do not i succeed In doing so, monsieur," she laid coldly. Pauline Intervened. There was some faint note of courtesy In her manner, nothing whatever of kindliness. "This young gentleman," she explained ex-plained to her aunt. "Lord Dombey, I believe Ids nunie Is was kind enough to be of assistance to us at Monte Carlo, on the night when Ztibln met with bis unfortunate accident." Madame de I'onlere Inclined her head. "I irust flint we tendered our thanks on that occasion." she observed Icily. Gerald held his ground. I'uullne was paler than ever, nnd thin, but peihaps he fancied that there was a shade of en inurement in those soft, weary eyes. "Madame," he said, "there was some slight previous acquaintance between your nle and' myself., gome trilling service I had been able to render which gave me the rliih! to perform tills further one. It gives me great pleasure pleas-ure to see you again In my own country." The older woman laughed hardly. "It Is dillicult to believe." she scoffed, "that the sight of us could iglve pleasure to any one; apart from which fact," site added rapidly, "It Is not our wish to make or renew ac-ii:iiiir:n ac-ii:iiiir:n s while we are here." "Madame." Ceroid replied, "that was your attitude in Monte Curio, an attitude atti-tude which I may say occasioned me the derpesf regret. I venture to hope that 1 may be able to Induce jtou to modify II." "And why s'-ould IT' the asked, al-n.oM al-n.oM Insoiei'tlv. "I'.eca ii-e I buve the s!ncer,-ir and mot ptofixmd admiration fi mtol.'- m,.e!le," Ct:ld dec'are.l stonily, I "ai i! t.ecauve. In my own country, |