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Show Taylor L.u m "A woman with green eyes is very rare. Did you know that?" THE STORY SO FAR: Joan Leland, secretary to Arthur Mulford, San Francisco Fran-cisco Importer, Is amazed and angry when he discharges her with two weeks' salary and refuses any explanation. The same day her sister, Sybil, with whom she shares an apartment, loses her position in a beauty salon. Joan accepts ac-cepts x position from Karl Miller, hand-tome hand-tome proprietor of a night club, who racists on paying ber in advance, at the rateJof $50 per week. Sybil suspects , something sinister about the position, divines Joan's quick Interest in Karl. Though the sisters quarrel, Joan refuses to quit. She accepts his dinner Invitation Invi-tation and when he tells her he has a beauty salon job for Sybil, and takes her Into his arms, her happiness knows no bounds. The scene is interrupted by the entrance of Paul Sherman, Karl's manager. man-ager. The two men leave, but Paul returns re-turns quickly to talk with Joan. He oon surprises the girl by asking her to tell him how she got the job. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER IV Joan's surprise showed inher voice - gs she replied, "What do you ' xrie'an?" "Just what I said. Who suggested It to you?" "I lost my job last week," Joan told him, wondering why she was doing so. After all it really wasn't ny of Paul Sherman's business why she was here. "That same night I saw a want ad for this one. I came down to apply and Karl, Mr. Miller, hired me." "You didn't know Karl Miller before be-fore that?" "I don't see what it is to you,', Joan flared resentfully. "Don't bite my head off," Paul vaid pleasantly. "I just wondered, Biat's all. I would like to be your friend, Miss Leland. You may need one." "I'm doing all right!" Joan said, Irritated. "Okay. But just one more question. ques-tion. Have you met Karl's partner, Eric Strom?" Joan answered him reluctantly. "Eric Strom? No, I haven't met him. Why?" "I'm the one asking the questions," ques-tions," Paul retorted, and Joan felt that he was laughing at her as he rose and went to the door. "I have work to do, Mr. Sherman," Sher-man," she said crossly. "Call me Paul. By the way, how bout having dinner with me some 'night?" ) Joan was surprised at the audacity of this request. "I expect to be very busy," she said coldly. "Nevertheless," Paul Sherman retorted, re-torted, "I shall meet you on Monday night at six o'clock." He mentioned the grill of a well-known hotel. "I have no intentions of being there." "By Monday you may change your mind." Joan sighed as the office door shut behind him. It seemed that at every ev-ery turn she met a surprise. What would Karl say if he knew that his manager had tried to make a date with his secretary? The secretary whom only a few moments ago Karl fhad held in his arms. In a way she " was glad that Paul Sherman had interrupted that perfect moment. Karl would be angry and Karl's wrath was one thing that Joan would not risk. t "Karl!" Joan thought, closing her eyes against the memory of his handsome, expressionless face, steadying herself against the flood of emotion that swept over her. "I shouldn't have let him kiss me," Joan told herself. "But I love him! I love him, yet I'm afraid ..." Even to herself Joan did not like to admit that the reason for her fear was that Karl Miller did not return her affection. True, he had taken her out; he had even kissed her. But Joan doubted that any woman could possess his entire '"heart. The situation intrigued her; at the same time she was frightened. Joan and Sybil spent a quiet Sunday. Sun-day. Karl had told Joan that he would not be able to see her over the week-end and she found that even one day without him was enough to make her unhappy. Sybil seemed cheerful at the prospect pros-pect of starting her new job at the Ritz Beauty Shop. "What's the matter mat-ter with you?" she asked as Joan gat staring into space. "We've both got a job. There's nothing ,to worry about." Joan suspected that Sybil knew what was worrying her but she disliked dis-liked bringing up the subject of Karl Miller. Instead she told Sybil about Paul Sherman and his proposal that ihe have dinner with him. Sybil lay on the couch, her blonde bair in curlers. "He sounds all right," she commented. "Why don't you go?" "I don't even know the man," Joan protested. "I met him only last night." Sybil raised an eyebrow as she contemplated her sister. "You didn't know Karl Miller either, but you fell in love with him overnight Or maybe I should say you think you're in love with him." Joan curled up in the big chair and opened a magazine which she j pretended to read. "Look, honey, why not confess? I know how you feel." Joan lifted a confused, radiant lace. "Oh, Syb, you're right! I do love him. I'm so In love with him that it frightens me because I can't believe that he really cares about me. I'm so young and unsophisticated." unsophisti-cated." "And you're going to stay that way," Sybil said sharply. "You don't love Karl Miller, Joan! You want him because you know he's out of your reach." "Oh, it's more than that!" the youthful voice was full of pain. "Even so, it can't hurt anything for you to be nice to this other man. He's young and apparently he likes you. Why don't you have dinner with him?" "I don't want Karl to be angry with me," Joan confessed. "Is it as bad as that?" Sybil asked quietly. Joan sighed, "I'm sorry, Syb! But that's the way it is. I can't help it." Sybil was silent and In the twilight twi-light they could hear rain splashing against the windowpanes. When the telephone pealed through the room, Joan flew to answer it. Perhaps it would be Karll It was. And at the sound of his voice her heart sang. "I find that I am going to be free this evening," came his carefully modulated voice. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" Would she like to? "Oh, darling!" dar-ling!" her heart cried. But she answered an-swered demurely. "I'd love to." Joan ran into the bedroom to change her dress but Sybil had not missed the unconcealed joy in her face. Sybil's blue eyes were full of worry as she stared thoughtfully after her sister. Joan was disappointed to find that Karl had invited another dinner guest. Eric Strom, whom Paul had described as Karl's partner, met them at the hotel. Sitting in front of the broad windows which overlooked over-looked the sea, Joan's spirits drooped. Eric Strom asked, "Do you find the rain so depressing. Miss Leland?" Le-land?" "It does seem gloomy," Joan admitted. ad-mitted. Karl smiled at her indulgently but the two men continued to talk about business. Joan did not like Eric. For the same inexplicable reason that she trusted Paul, she did not trust Karl's partner. "My intuition's working overtime," over-time," Joan reflected, glancing at Eric. He was a slight man, blond, about Karl's age. But he had none of Karl's magnetic power. There was something shifty about his pale eyes. His manner was cautious, unpleasantly unpleas-antly so. He looked a great deal at Joan and his glance made her uncomfortable. un-comfortable. If Karl noticed this, he gave no sign. He was cheerful during dur-ing the meal, -which seemed endless end-less to his secretary. The two men, engrossed in their own conversation, conversa-tion, left Joan free to speculate. Joan looked at Karl, whose eyes were as sphinxlike as the vast ocean that rolled outside the broad windows. win-dows. A little thrill swept over her that this man was here. But was he? For one small moment the day before she had been in his arms, but during the rest of the brief time she had known him he seemed a thousand miles away. Joan's reverie was broken by the headwaiter who was speaking to Karl. "You're wanted on the telephone, tele-phone, Mr. Miller." When he had gone, Eric Strom smiled at her and leaned across the table. "You are very beautiful, Miss Leland. Le-land. But I suppose Karl has told you that." His accent was much heavier than Karl's, and Joan found it difficult to understand. "A woman wom-an with green eyes is very rare. Did you know that?" Joan forced a smile to her lips. "I don't believe we've met before, have we?" He shrugged. "I am Karl's silent partner. He doesn't need me to run the club. Others can do that. By the way, Miss Leland, I would like to see you again sometime. Just the two of us." Her piquant face was white beneath be-neath the sophisticated veiL She was afraid of this man. "I'm afraid it is impossible," she replied sharply. But Eric Strom was not displeased. dis-pleased. "Have a cigarette. Miss Leland? You may find that sometime some-time we have no choice in such matters." Joan stared at him uncertainly. What did he mean by that? Did everyone ev-eryone at the Club Elite talk in riddles? rid-dles? First Paul's inexplicable behavior, be-havior, now Eric Strom's! What would Karl think if he knew that his partner and his manager had both tried to make a date with his secretary? Paul was young. Perhaps Per-haps high spirits had prompted his impudence. But Eric Strom was another an-other matter, and Joan decided to tell Karl about it the moment they were alone. She had no chance, however, for when Karl returned to the table he said briefly, "Something has come up. We'll have to go back to the office." The two men exchanged glances, then looked at Joan. "Do you mind?" Karl inquired with his quick smile. "I'd like to get a couple of letters out tonight. I know it isn't in the bargain for you to work on Sunday." She knew that she was powerless to refuse him. She would gladly have typed endless letters in order or-der to be near him. Karl paid the check and the three of them left. As they drove back to North Beach, sheets of rain beat upon the car. The Club Elite was closed on Sundays and Karl unlocked the door with his own key. Joan was surprised to see a streak . of light streaming from the door of hil private office. Hurrying along the corridor, she reached it first and found herself face to face with Paul Sherman. He grinned at her. "A manager never really has a day off." Karl seemed to find nothing strange in his presence at the club. "You don't happen to have some extra time, do you, Miss Leland?" Paul inquired. "I could use some help." Before she could answer, Karl Miller Mil-ler said quickly, "She has enough to do, Paul, and now if you don't mind . . ." He left his sentence unfinished. "Surely." Paul grinned and sauntered saun-tered to the door. "See you tomorrow," tomor-row," he called back but his eyes were on Joan and she knew that he was thinking of the dinner date he had proposed. She shook her head as she looked at him over her typewriter but Paul ignored it. Karl removed his overcoat and sat down at his desk. Eric Strom mixed himself a drink. "Take a letter," Karl said, reading read-ing from a sheet of yellow paper, "to A. H. Gomez, Mazatlan, Mexico . . . Dear Sir: I am happy to report that the situation you mentioned has been cleared up satisfactorily. The .xlub will be open from eight to two ind shows every sign of being successful." suc-cessful." Joan looked at him curiously. This did not sound like an important business busi-ness letter to her. Certainly not so important that it couldn't wait until morning. Seeing her glance, Karl said, "I'm afraid you're too tired. I shouldn't have asked you to work tonight." "It's all right," she hastened to assure him, "I don't mind, really." But Karl Miller had changed his mind. "I will call a taxi and send you home." "But I'm not Aired, Karl!" He was dialing a number and Joan knew it was useless to argue with him. He went to the door of the club with her, pressing her hand as he said, "I'm sorry it had to turn out this way tonight. We'll arrange ar-range something else soon ..." Joan shivered in the damp night air as she waited for the taxi. A small coupe stopped suddenly before be-fore her with screaming brakes. Involuntarily In-voluntarily Joan stepped back, surprised sur-prised to see Paul Sherman. "What are you doing here alone?" he asked. "Waiting for a taxi," Joan replied with dignity. "Well, jump in, my girl!" Paul ordered cheerfully. He got out and opened the door of the car. "You may as well let me drive you home. You can't stand here in the rain, you know." It did seem silly, Joan admitted, climbing in, but as Paul started the car she cried, "I left my mrse in the office." (TO BE CONTINUED) |