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Show i fie (Uio m toe Mirror By ELIZABETH JORDAN ( by The Cent Dry Company,) WNU Service rather unusual degree of firmness was necessary, for Miss Blllle was not used to having her Invitations refused. She accepted the phenomenon with acute unwillingness and very llnger-lngly. llnger-lngly. Bangs was not at home, to divert his chum's mind with his robust conversation. con-versation. As he dressed for his call on Doris, the sharp contrasts of life struck Laurie with the peculiar. force with which they hit the young and the Inexperienced. But were they really contrasts? On the one side were Louise, dying, and Doris, seemingly eager to . die. On the other were Bill le and her friends foolish little butterflies, enjoying their brief hour In the secret garden of life, Mm' 'IWi Jit At Eight o'Clock Laurie Found Doris Sitting Under the Shade of a Reading Read-ing Lamp In Her Studio. served, with satisfaction. "No one connected with a studio ever lifts u rug. Bangs nd I used to throw our money under the furniture, and pick It up as we needed It; but others sometimes reached it first. This way Is better. How lovely you look!" he added. As he spoke he comfortably seated himself on the other side of the reading-lamp, and moved the lamp to a . point where It would not obstruct ob-struct his view of her. She did look lovely. She had put on an evening gown, very simply made, but rich. In the Oriental coloring color-ing she loved. She was like Louise in that. Laurie's thoughts swung to the latter's sick-room, and his hrilliant young face grew somber. The girl lounging In the big chair observed the sudden change in his expression. She pushed a box of cigarettes toward him. "Smoke If you like," she said, Indifferently. In-differently. "Ail my friends do." He caught the phrase. Then she had friends ! "Including Herbert Ransome Shaw?" he asked, as he lit a match. "Don't Include him among my friends! But he was here this afternoon." aft-ernoon." v "He was!" In his rising Interest Laurie netirly let the match go out. "What did he want?" "To warn me to have nothing to do with you." "I like his Infernal cheek !" Laurie lit the cigarette and puffed at It savagely. Then, rising, he drew his chair forward and sat down facing fac-ing her. "See. here," he said quietly, "you'd better tell me the whole story. I can't help you much If Ym kept In the dark. But If you'll let me Into things And before I forget It," he interrupted inter-rupted himself to Interject, "I want to bring a friend of mine to call on you. She will be a tower of strength. She's a Russian, and one of the best women I know." She listened with a slight smile. "What's her name?" "Miss Orleneff, Sonya Orleneff, a great pal of my sister's and an all-round all-round good sort. I'd like to bring her In tomorrow afternoon. Will five be convenient?" "No." She spoke now with the curt-ness curt-ness of the morning. "In no circumstances," circum-stances," she added, decisively. "Butwhy?" , He was dazed. If ever a knight errant worked under greater difficulties difficul-ties than these, Laurie told himself,' he'd like to know the poor chap's name. "I have no wish to meet Miss Orleneff." Or-leneff." "But she's an ideal person for you to know, experienced, sympathetic, and understanding. She did a lot for my sister last year. I must tell you all about that sometime. She could do more for you " "Mr. Devon!" The finality of her tone brought him up short. "We must understand each other." I should like nothing better." He, too, was suddenly formal. "This morning you projected yourself your-self Into my life." "Literally," he cordially agreed. "I am grateful to you for what you did and what you wish to do. But I will not meet any more strangers. I will not meet Miss Orleneff, or any one else. Is that clear?" "Oh, perfectly!" Laurie sighed. "Of course you're a crowned head," he mused aloud. "I had forgotten. Would you like my head on a charger, or anything like that?" She studied him thoughtfully. "Almost' from the first," she said, "and except for an occasional minute or two, you have refused to be serious. seri-ous. That interests me. Why Is it? Aren't you willing to realize that there are real troubles in the world, terrible troubles, that the bravest go down undr?" "Of course." He was serious now. He had begun to realize that fully. "It's my unfortunate manner, I suppose," sup-pose," he defended himself. "I've never taken anything seriously for r . very long. It's hard to form the habit, hab-it, all of a sudden." "Ton will have to take me seriously." seri-ously." He made a large gesture of acceptance. accept-ance. "All right," he promised. "That brings us back to where we were. Tell me the truth. If there's anything any-thing in It that really menaces you, you'll find me serious enough." Before answering, she rose and opened the studio door, on which, he observed with approval, a strong new lock and an Inside bolt had already been placed. He saw her peer up and down the hall. Then she closed and bolted the door, and returned to her chair. The precaution brought before him a mental vision of Herbert Ransome Ran-some Shaw prowling about tlie dim corridor. He spoke incredulously. "Are you really afraid of that chap?" "I have good reason to be," she said quietly. She sat down In her chair again, rested her elbows on the table' and her chin In her hands, In the pose already so familiar to him, and added quietly, "He is the source of all my present trouble." She stopped and turned her head to listen. "Do you hear anything moving In the hall?" she asked, almost In a whisper. whis-per. "No. Shall I look?" She shook her head. "Don't unbolt the door." "You're nervous. I'm sure there's nothing there. Please go on," he urged. "Our little friend Bertie " Seeing her expression, he stopped short. "Forgive me," he said, humbly. hum-bly. "But the plain truth Is, It's awfully aw-fully hard for me to take that fellow seriously. Oh, I know he's venomous," he conceded, "but I can't help feeling that he hasn't as much power over you as you think he has." ' He realized that she was listening, but not to him. "There Is some one outside that door !" she whispered. Laurie leaped to the door as noiselessly noise-lessly as a cat, unbolted It, and flung It open. The hall was empty. He had an Instantaneous impression that something as silent as a moving shadow shad-ow had vanished around the staircase at the far end, but when he reached the spot he saw nothing save the descending de-scending Iron spirals of successive stairways. He returned to his com- panion, smiling reassuringly. "It's our nerves," he said. "In 8 few minutes more I shall be worrying worry-ing about Bertie, myself." "Bolt the door again," she directed. He obeyed. She went on as if there had been no Interruption to their talk. "It isn't what he Is," she admitted. "He himself Is nothing, as you say. It's what is back of him that that frightens me! Why don't you smoke?" she interrupted herself to ask. Laurie automatically selected and lit another cigarette. "I know what's going to be back of Bertie pretty soon," he darkly predicted. pre-dicted. "Whoever he Is, and whatever he Is doing, he has a big jolt coming to him, and It's coming fast." He laid down . the cigarette and turned to her with his most charming expression, a wonderfully sweet smile, half shy, wholly boyish. Before this look, any one who loved Laurence Devon was helpless. "Come," he said gently, "tell me the whole story. You know it's not curiosity that makes me ask. But how can I help you when I'm working In the dark?" As she hesitated, his brilliant eyes, so softened now, continued to hold hers. "And I want to help you," he added. "I want that privilege more than I want anything else In the world." For a long moment she sat still, as If considering his words, her eyes on her hands, folded In her lap. The strange, deep flush he had noticed once before again stained her face. At last she straightened up with a quick movement, throwing back her shoulders as if to take on again some burden they had almost cast off. "I am sorry to seem so mysterious," mysteri-ous," she said, "and so unresponsive. T will tell you this much, and it Is more than I ought to say. In the situation we are in I am In his1 power, horribly so. He can crush me at any time he chooses." "Then why doesn't he?" The gentleness of her caller's voice softened the brusqueness of his words, i "Because " She stopped again, f For the first time she had become I embarrassed and self-conscious. She ! made her climax in a rush: "Lately j he insists that he has fallen In love with me!" 1 8TORY FROM THE START Laurie Devon, a gay young chap somewhat inclined to wlld-ness, wlld-ness, has recently succeeded as a playwright. His wealthy Bister Bis-ter Barbara, who has helped him to succeed, has Just been married mar-ried and is going to Japan, leaving leav-ing Laurie on his own. Epstein and Bangs, his theatrical partners, part-ners, have promised Barbara to keep an eye on Laurie. They Bcold him for his laziness of late, and he retorts that he seeks adventure. ad-venture. From hlB window In ( New York he sees the reflection of a beautiful girl In a mirror In the house opposite. From the elevator boy in the girl's house Laurie learns the girl's name Is Mayo. Again In the mirror's reflection re-flection he sees her with a revolver re-volver and fears she means tu j commit suicide. He rushes Into I her apartment, and. winning her confidence, Induces her to lunch with him, though she warns him of danger. At lunch she admits there is a mystery in her life. She says also that her funds are almost exhausted, but refuses flatly Laurie's offer of financial help. As a stranger enters the restaurant, the girl : mutters "He has found me." Upon learning that the man has no claim on her, Laurie warns the stranger not to molest the girl, whose name, Laurie learns, la Doris. To Louise Ordway, his Invalid sister-in-law, Laurie admits ad-mits his Interest In Doris. fcHAPTER Vl' -Continued 9 "Bob didn't know," she said. "If he had felt the least suspicion he wouldn't have gone so far, or for so long. I thought I had three or four months" Laurie bent and kissed her cheek. "I'm coming In every day," he said, and abruptly left the room. In the lower hall he stopped to take In the full real realization of what he had discovered. Louise, superb, arrogant, ar-rogant, beautiful Louise, was really ni, desperately ill. A feeling of remorse re-morse mingled with bis sense of shock. He had believed her a sort of . nervous hypochondriac. He had so resented her excessive demands on Barbara that it was only since he had seen much of her in this last month that he had been able wholeheartedly whole-heartedly to like and admire her. As he stood silent, he become conscious con-scious of another presence an au-ifust, au-ifust, Impressive one, familiar in the past but veiled now, as It were, in a midst of human emotion. It was Jep-, Jep-, son, the butler. He coughed humbly. "Hexcuse me, sir," he faltered. "But Mrs. Hordway h'aln't quite so well lately, sir. 'Ave you hobserved that?" Laurie nodded. "I noticed It today," he admitted. "She's Iosln' strength very fast, sir. Hall of us 'as seen it. Cook says she don't eat nothing. And Susanne and the nurse says it's 'ard work to get 'er from the bed to 'er chair " Laurie checked these revelations. "Has the doctor been here today?" "Yessir, two of 'em 'ave been 'ere. Doctor Speyer comes hevery day. This morning 'e brought Doctor Humes again. Hit's very hupsettlng, Fir. with 'er brother away and hall." The man was genuinely anxious. Laurie tried to reassure him. "She may be better In a day or two," he said, more buoyantly than he felt. "But I'll come In every day. And here's my telephone number. If anything goes wrong, call me up Immediately. Im-mediately. Leave a message if I'm not there." "Yessir. Thank you. sir." Jepson was pathetically grateful and relieved. He had the English servant's characteristic charac-teristic need of sanction and authority. author-ity. When Laurie reached his rooms, he called Sonya on the telephone. Like Jepson. he was feeling rather overwhelmed over-whelmed by his responsibilities. It was a relief to hear Sonya's deep, colorful voice. "Didn't know you were here till Just now," he told her. "I'm coming to Bee you In the morning. I want to talk to you about a lot of things." "Including Mrs. Ordway?" suggested suggest-ed Sonya. ' Yes. You saw her today. You noticed" no-ticed" "Of course. Samuel Is to be operated op-erated on tomorrow. I'll send him back to Devon House with his mother In a few days, as soon as he can safely safe-ly travel, and I shall stay right here." "That's splendid of you!" "It's what Barbara and Mr. Warren would wish. And Mrs. Ordway, too, I think, though she would never suggest sug-gest It." "I'm sure It Is." Laurie hung up the receiver with nervous hand. To a youth of twenty-four It is a somewhat overpowering overpower-ing experience to discover that destiny Im especially busy over the affairs of two women for whom he has assumed a definite responsibility. As he turned from the Instrument Its bell again -mpelled his attention. He took up .ho receiver, and the voice of a girl came to his ear. A week or two ago he had rather liked that voice and Its owner, a gay, Irresponsible, i good-hearted little creature who pranced In the front row of at uptown up-town pony ballet. Now he listened to It with keen distaste. "Hello, Laurie." It twittered. "Is i that yno? This la Blllle. Listen. I gotta plan. A bunch of us Is goln' out to Gedney to supper tonight. Wa're goln' to leave right after the now. Are you on?" I-nurte got rid of the fair Blllle. He 4!d It courteously but very firmly. A eternally chattering about "good times," playing they were happy, perhaps per-haps even thinking they were happy, but Infinitely more tragic figures than Louise and Doris. Yet a week ago he had thought they amused him! Pondering on these and other large problems, he absently removed the bloom from three fresh white ties. CHAPTER VII Griggs Gets an Order. At eight o'clock Laurie found Doris sitting under the shade of a reading-lamp reading-lamp in her studio, deep In the pages of a sophisticated French novel and radiating an almost oppressive atmosphere atmos-phere of well-being. Subconsciously, he resented this. His mood was keyed to tragedy. But he returned her half-serious, half-mocking half-mocking smile with one as enigmatic, shook hands with grave formality, and surveyed with mild interest a modest heap of bank-notes of small denominations that lay on the table, catching the room's high lights. Fol-lowjng Fol-lowjng his glance, Doris nodded complacently. com-placently. "I left them there for you to see," she remarked. "Did the kind gentleman under the three balls give you all that?" "He did. Count it." Laurie frowned. "Don't be so arrogant about your wealth. It's fleeting. Any copy-book will tell you so." She opened a small drawer In the table, swept the bills into It, and casually closed it. Laurie stared. "Are you going to leave it there? Just like that?" She looked patient. "Why not?" "I begin to understand why you are sometimes financially cramped." He took the bills, smoothed them out flat, rolled back the rug tp the edge of the table, laid the money under un-der it, and carefully replaced the rug. "That's the place to put it," he ob- j Laurie uttered an ejaculation.. It was not a pretty one, but It nicely fitted the emergency. "He has hoped that to save myself, j and others. I will marry him, the eon- ' ! temptible, crawling snake!" I The listener was Impreised by her j comparison. Certainly there was somelhlng ophidian about Shaw. He ', himself had noticed It "Then, for the time being, you're really safe?" he suggested. "No. His patience Is exhauster). He Is beginning to realize that Pc? rather die." I Laurie Qota the Idea that the I police ought to be notified, but Doris warns him that would i j spoil everything. I J (TO a COKTI.NL ED.) |