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Show TEc ii Hillman E. PHILLIPS J OPPENHEIM j: Author of "The Double TrKor." J, "Th Muter Mummer," etc. ajjaj. . cWVWJ'AVbWlrWlKiS'C k :! i ,i Jlllii! il 'ilS'iilhi'iiJlLillllillllllllliilllillUIIIIHIlilllllllllillllilliiilirilllllUlu, BBfl (Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co.) I SYNOPSIS. BBfl CI f A FTTH I On a trip through the Rng- JHH llti Cumberland country tlii' breakdown HHb of Iht automobile fori cs Louise Mauril. n HHn fumiais lindofi actress, to ftpenrl the HHI night at the 1.11m home of John anil Stephen HttiiiiKewoy. BBfl CHAPTKR II At dinner I....HH.. dlacov- ere that the bruthcra are woman-hating BBl CHAPTER Ill-Next morning ahe lla- covers that John, tho younger brother, haa recently come Into u larxe fortune J In company with him she explore! tho BBfl "Tho t-l 1 1 N ii grout friend of BBl nine." Mho snld. "I Iniil promised to BBfl pond IfiMt night, or. nt any rnto, some BBl portion of tho evening, nt Rnynhum BBl enstlo on my wny to London." BBl IN- summoned up oourngo to nsk hor BBl the question which hnd !.;.:; on J:!" lips BBl more than once. BBJ "Ah your stny with us In ao nonrly BBl ver, won't you nhnndon your lncog- M BBl "In tho absence of your brothor," she BBl inswered, "I will risk It. My name ! H Louise Mnurel." Lflfl "Louise Mnurel. the actress?" he ro- BBfl ponied wonderlngly. BBfl "lnmshe,"I itiUie confessed. "Would BBfl four brother," she nddod, with a little BBfl rrlmneo. "fool thnt he hnd given me n BBl light's lodging under fnlso pretenses." BBl John made no Immodlnte reply. Tim BBfl Mir!i hnd turned topsyturvy wtth hint. BBl Louise Mnurel, nnd n grout friend of BBl he prlnoo of Seyrel He wnlked on BBl peohnnlonlly until she turned ond BBl looked at him. BH BBl "I nm sorry," he declared bluntly. BBn "Why?" she asked, a little startled BBl It his candor. BBg "I am sorry, first of all. thnt you are BBg I friend of the prlnoo of Royre." BBl "And agnln, why?" BBl "Because of Ills reputation In these H BBT "What does thnt menn?" she nsked. BBa "I am not a scandalmonger," John HJ replied dryly. "I speak only of what I HJ know. Ills estates near here are sys- BL feiunileiillv neglected. He Is the worst HJ tandlonl In tho country, nnd tho most HJ Unscrupulous. Ills tenants, both here BBJ sml In Westmorolnnd, have to work BBJ themselves to death to provide him BB u Hh the moans of living a disreputable B 9 "Are you not forgetting thnt the BBBJ prince of Soy re is a friend of mine?" BBBJ the asked stiffly. BBBJ "I forgot nothing," he answered BBBJ "You see, up here we have not learned BBBJ the nrt of evading the truth." I She shrugged hor shoulders. BBBJ "So much for the prince of Seyre, BBBJ then. And now, why your dislike of By niy profession?" Br "That Is another matter." he con- BBb fessed. "You come from a world ot BBb which I know nothing. All I can say BH I- that I would rather think of you i BBV hs something different." BH She laughed at his somber fnce nnd BH pulled his nrm lightly. BH "Big mnn of the hills," she snld, BH "when you come ilown from your fro BBV r.eii heights to look for the flowers, 1 BH shall try to make you see things differ-Hfl differ-Hfl M CHAPTER V. BBb Once more thnt long, winding stretch BBb of inoiinlnln rnnd lay empty under the BBb moonlight. 1'p the long slope, whore BBm throe months before he had ridden to BBa find himself confronted with tho nd- BBV venture of his life, John Strangewey BBV Jogged homeward In his high dogcart. BBh The mare, scenting hor stable, broke BBh Into a quick trot as they topped tho BJ long rise. Suddenly she felt a hand BBh tighten upon her reins. She looked BBB Inquiringly around, and then stood pa- BBJ tlently awaiting hor master's bidding. Bh II seemed to John as If he bad passed BBB from the partial abstraction of the last BBB few hours Into absolute and entire for- BBB gotfulm ss of tho present. He could BBB see tho motorcar drawn up by the side BBB of the road, could hear the fretful BB voice of the maid, and the soft, picas- BBB nut words of greeting from the woman BBB who had seemed from tho llrst as If BBB kIio vvore very far reinoxed Indeed BBB from any of the small annoyances ot BH their accident. BBB "I have broken down. Can you help?" BBB He set bis tooth. Tho poignancy of BBj the recollection was n torture to him. BBj Word by word he lived again thnumli BBB thnt brief Interview. He saw her de- BBB acend from the car, felt tho touch of BBB her band on his nrm, saw tho flush BBB Of her brOWD tyes IIS she drew close tu BBJ him with that pleasant little air of fa- BBB iiilllarlty, shared by no other woman BBB tie had ever known. BB Then the little scene failed away, and BjBj ho remembered the tedious present BH Ha had spout two dull days nt thf BJBB house of a neighboring land owner, HBJ playing cricket In tho daytime, dam-In)) BJBl ut night with women In whom he wut BB liiuiiiio to feel the slightest Interest BBS) always with that faraway feeling la BsE his heart, struggling hour by hour wltl 2B Uutt curious restleoaui-su which seemet to have taken a permanent place In his disposition. He was on his way home to Peak Hall. He knew exactly the welcome which was awaiting him. He knew exactly the news he would receive. He raised his whip and cracked It vlclousl.v In the air. Stephen wns waiting for him, ns he hnd expected. In the dining room. Tho older Strnngowey wns sented In his accustomed ac-customed ehnlr, smoking bis pipe nnd rending the paper. The table was laid for a moal, which Jcnnlngji was preparing pre-paring to serve. "Rack a, dn, John?" his brother remarked, re-marked, lo klnjf nt him flxodly over his newspaper. John picked up one or two letters, glanced thorn over, nnd flung them down upon the table. He hnd examined exam-ined every envelope for the last few months with tho same expectancy, and thrown each one down with the same throb of disappointment. "As you see." "Ilnd a good time?" "Not very. Have they finished the barley Holds, Stephen?" "All In nt eight o'clock." There wns n brief silence. Then Stephen knocked the ashes from his pipe nnd rose to his foot. "John," ho asked, "why did you pull up on the road there?" There wns no Immediate answer. The slightest of frowns formed Itself upon the younger man's face. "I low did you know that I pulled np?" "I wns sitting with tho window open, listening for you. I enme outside to soe what had happened, and I saw your lights standing still." "I hail a fancy to stop for a moment," mo-ment," John said; "nothing more." "Vou nren t letting your thoughts dwell upon that woman?" "I hove thought about her sometimes," some-times," John answered, utmost defiantly. defiant-ly. "What's the hurm? I'm still here, am I not?" Stephen crossed the room. From the Jrawer of the old mahogany sideboard "You Aren't Letting Your Thoughts Dwell Upon That Woman?" he produced an Illustrated paper. Ho turned back the frontispiece fiercely and hold it up. "Do you see thnt, John?" "I've seen It nlreutly." Stephen threw the paper upon the tnble. "She's going to act In another of those confounded French plays," he said ; "trunslntlons with all the wit taken out nnd all the vulgurlty lelt In." "We knew nothing of hor nrt," John declared coldly. "We shouldn't understand under-stand It, even If we saw her act. Therefore There-fore It Isn't right for us to Judge her. The world has found her a great actress. ac-tress. She Is not resK)nslble for the plays she acts In." Stephen turned nway nnd lit his pipe anew. He smoked for u minute or tWQ furiously. His thick eyebrows I came closer and closer together. lie seemed to be turning some thought over In his mind. "John." he asked, "Is It this cursed money that Is making you restless?" "I never think of It except when someone comes bogging. I promised u thousand pounds to the Infirmary today." to-day." "Then what's wrong with you?" John stretched himself out, a splendid splen-did figure of healthy manhood. Ills cheeks were suntanned, his eyes clear and bright. "The matter? There's nothing on earth tho matter with me," he declared. de-clared. "It Isn't your health 1 mean. There are other things, as you well know. Vou do your day's work and you take your pleasure, and you go through both as If your feet wore on a treadmill." "Your fancy, Stephen!" "(!od grant It! I've bad an unwelcome unwel-come visitor In your absence." John Inroad swiftly around. "A visitor?" he repeated. "Who was It?" Stephen glowered nt him for a moment. mo-ment. "It was the prince," he said; "the prince of Sex re, as be calls himself, though he has the right to style himself him-self Master of Hayuham. It's only his foreign blood which iiialit s him choose what I regard as the lesser title. ' B, he called to ask you to shoot and stay nt the castle, If you would, from the sixteenth to the twentieth of next month." "What answer did you give him?" "I told him that you were your own master. You must send word tomorrow." tomor-row." "He did not mention tho names ot any of his other guests, I suppose ?" "He mentioned no numes at all." John wns silent for n momont. A bewildering thought hnd tnken hold of him. Supposing she wore to be there? Stephen, watching him, read his thoughts, and for a moment lost control con-trol of himself. "Wore you thinking about that woman?" wom-an?" he asked sternly. "What woman?" "The womnn whom we sheltered here, tho woman whose shameless picture pic-ture Is on the cover of thnt book." John swung round on his heel. "Stop that, Stephen!" he snld menacingly. men-acingly. "Why should 1?" the older man retorted. re-torted. "Take up that paper, If you want to read a sketch of the life of Louise Mnurel. See the piny she made her name In 'La Oloconda' I" "Whnt about It?" Stephen hold the paper out to his brother. John read a few lines and dashed It Into a corngr of the room. "There's this much about It, John," Stephen continued. "The womnn played thnt part night nftor night played It to the life, mind you. She made her reputation In It. Thnt's the woman we unknowingly let sleep heuenth this roof ! The bnrn Is the plnce for hor nnd her sort !" John's clenched fists were held firmly firm-ly to his sides. His eyes wore blnzlm:. "That's enough, Stephen!" he cried. "No, It's not enough !" wns the fierce reply." "The truth's been burning In my 1 honrt long enough. It's better out. TOM wnnt to And her a guest at Rayn- hnm castle, do you? Rnynhnm castle, where never a decent woman crosses j the threshold ! If she goes there, she ; goes Well?" An nnger that wns almost paralyz-jlng. paralyz-jlng. n sense of the utter Impotence of i words, drove John In silence from tho room. He left the house by the hack door, passed quickly through the or-chnrd, or-chnrd, whore the tnngled moonlight lay upon tho ground In strnngo, fantastic shadows; across the nnrrow strip of i field, n field now of golden stubble np the hill which looked down upon the farm buildings nnd the churchyard. He sat grlndy down upon a gront bowlder, filled with a hateful sense of imwrcukod passion, yet with a sheer thankfulness In his honrt that he had escaped the miasma of evil thoughts Which Stephen's words seemed to have created. The fancy seized him to fnce these half-veiled suggestions of his brother, so far as they concerned himself and his life during the last few months. Stephen wns right. This womnn who had dropped from the clouds for those few brief hours had plnyed strange hnvoe with John's thoughts and his whole outlook upon life. The coming of harvest, the care of his people, his sports, his cricket, the early days upon the grouse moors, had all suddenly i lost their Interest for hltn. Life hnd become n tnsk. The echo of her hnlf-mocklng. hnlf-mocklng. half-challenging words wns ulways In his ears. He sat with his head resting upon his hands, looking steadfastly across the valley below. Almost nt his feet lny the little church with Its grnve-yurd, grnve-yurd, ttio long line of stacks and barns, tho laborers' cottages, the hnllltTs house, tho whole little colony around which his life seemed centered. The summer moonlight lay upon tho ground almost like snow. He could see tho sheaves of wheat standing up In the most distant of the cornfields. Iteyond was tho dark gorge toward which he had looked so ninny nights nt this hour. Across the vlnduet there enme n blaze of streaming light, n serpentlike trail, n faintly honrd whistle tho Scottish Scot-tish express on Its wny soutbwurd toward London. Ills eyes followed It ; out of sight. Ho found himself thlnk-; thlnk-; Ing of the passengers who would wake the next morning In London. Ho felt ' himself suddenly acutely conscious of his Isolation. Was there not something almost monastic In the seclusion which had become a passion with Stephen, and which had Its grip, too. upon him a wnste of life, a burying of talents? He rose to his foot. The half-formed purpose of weeks held him now, definite defi-nite and secure. He knew that this pilgrimage pil-grimage of his to the hilltop, his rapt contemplation of the little panorama which bad become so dear to him, wns in II sense valedictory. e After nil, two more months passed before the end came, and It came then without a moment's warning. It wns a little past midday when John drove slowly through the streets of Market Kctton In his high dogcart, exchanging salutations right and left with the tradespeople, with farmers brought Into town by the market, wlih ac-iualntances ac-iualntances of all sorts and conditions. condi-tions. More than one young woman from the shop v Widows or the pae-meiits pae-meiits ventured to smile at him. and the few glii lings he received from the wives and daughters of his neighbor! woiv as gracious as they could possibly be made. John almost smiled once, in the act of raising his luit, as he realized real-ized bow- completely the whole charm of the world, for him, seemed (0 lie in one woman's o, . -.. At the croaawajra, where be should have turned to the inn, he pansed while n motorcar passed. It contained n woman, who was talking to her host. She was not In the least lll.e Louise, Lou-ise, ami yet Instinctively ha knew that she was of the same world. The perfection per-fection of her white serge costume, hor hat so smartly worn, the hulf-lnsolenl smile, the little gesture with which she raised her hand Something about her unlocked the floodgates. Market Ketton had Beamed well enough a few minutes ggO, John had felt a healthy appetite for his midday meal, ami a certain Interest concerning ii deal in barley gpou which be SfM about to engage. And now another World had him in Its grip. He llleked the uaro villi his whip, turned away from the Inn, and galloped np to th station, keeping pace with tho trnln whoso whistle he had heard. Standing outside was a local horse denier of his aeqnnlntnnee. "Take tho mnre hnck for me to I'enk Hnll, will you. Jenkins, or send one of your mils?" he begged. "1 wnnt to catch this train." The man assented with pleasure It pnld to do n kindness for a Strnngowey. Strnngo-wey. John pnssed through the ticket Ib j ?w I Y The Whistle Sounded. The Adventure of His Life Had Begun at Last. office to the platform, where the trnin wns waiting, threw open the door of n carriage, and flung himself into a corner seat. The whistle sounded. The adventure of his life had begun at last. CHAPTER VI. The great French drnmntlst, dark, pale-faced and corpulent, stood upon the extreme edge of the stnge, brandishing bran-dishing his manuscript in his hand. He banged the palm of his left hand with tho rolled-up manuscript and looked at them all furiously. "The only success I care for," he thundered, "Is an artistic success!" "With Miss Mnurel playing your loading port, M. Grnlllot," the nctor-managor nctor-managor declared, "not to speak of a company cnrofully selected to the best of my Judgment, I think you mny venture ven-ture to anticipate even that." The dramatist bowed hurriedly to Louise. "You recall to me a fact," he said gallantly, "which nlmost reconciles me to this diabolical travesty of some of my lines. Proceed, then proceed! I will he as patient as possible." The stage manager shouted out some directions from his box. A gentleman In faultless morning clothes, who seemed to have been thoroughly enjoying enjoy-ing the Interlude, suddenly adopted the puppetlike walk of a footman. Other actors, who had been whispering together to-gether in tho wings, came back to their places. Louise advanced alone, a little languidly, to the front of the stage. At the first sound of her voice M. Grnlllot. Grnll-lot. nodding his hend vigorously, was soothed. Her speech was a long one. It appeared that she bad been arraigned before n Company of her relatives, us-, us-, sembled to comment upon hor mls-j mls-j deeds. She wound up with a pa--ion-' ate appeal to her husband, Mr. Miles , Faraday, who bad made an unexpected . appearance. M. Gralllot's face, as she ! concluded, wns wreathed In smiles. "Ah !" he cried. "You have lifted us all up! Now I feel once more tho In- j splrutlon. Mademoiselle, I kiss your I hand," he went on. "It Is you who still j redeem my play. You bring back the spirit of it to me. In you I see the era- I bndlmont of my Therese." Louise made no movement. Her eyes were fixed upon a certain shadowy corner of the wings. Ovor- ! wrought as she hnd seemed, with the motional excitement of hor long speech, there wns now a now and eurl- , ous expression upon her face. She was looking at a tall, hesitating figure that stood Just off tho stage. She forgot tho existence of the famous dramatist who i hung upon her words. Her foot no I longer trod the dusty boards of the theater. She was almost painfully isclous of the perfume of apple blossom. blos-som. "You !" she exclaimed, stretching out hor bands. "Why do you not come and ' speak to me? I nm here!" John eaino out upon the stage. Tho French dramatist, with his hands behind be-hind his back, made swift mental notes of an Interesting situation. He saw , tho coming of a man who stood like a giant among them, sunburnt, buoyant with health, his eyes bright with the wonder of Ua unexpected surroundings; surround-ings; a man In whose presence everyone every-one else Seemed tO represent nil effete and pallid type of humanity. Those first few sentences, spoken In the nldM of a curious little crowd of strangers, seemed to John, when he thought of Ids long waiting, a 1 moat plt-eously plt-eously Inadequate. Louise, recognizing recogniz-ing the dillioully Of the situation, swiftly swift-ly recovered lac composure. She was both tactful and gracious. "Mr. Faraday," she said appeallngly, "Mr. Strangew ey emnes from thf eoun-try eoun-try he is, In fact, tho ino-t complete countryman I have ever met In my life. He comes from Cumberland, and he once well, very nearly saved my life. Be knows nothing about theaters, the-aters, and he hasn't the least lilen of the Importance of a rehearsal. You won't mind If we put him somewhere out Of the nay till we have finished, will you?" "After such an introduction," Fura day said in u tone of resignation, "Mr. Strangewey would be welcome at any" time." "There's a dear mnn !" Imlse ex-clnlrned. ex-clnlrned. "Let me Introduce him quickly. quick-ly. Mr. John Strnngowey Mr. Miles Farndny. If, Orolllot. Miss Sophy Gerard, Ge-rard, my particular little friend. The prince of Soyro you already know, although al-though you may not recognize him trying try-ing to balance himself on that absurd stool." John bowed In vnrlnus directions. and Faraday, taking him good-naturedly by tho arm, led. him to a garden sent nt the back of the stage. "There!" he said. "You are one of the most privileged persons In London. You shall hnr the finish of our rehearsal. re-hearsal. There Isn't a press mnn in London I'd have nenr the plnce." Twenty-four hours nway from his silent hills, John looked out with puzzled puz-zled eyes from his dusty sent nmong ropes nnd pulleys nnd leaning frng-monts frng-monts of scenery. Whnt he snw nnd heard seemed to him, for the most part, n meaningless tangle of gestures nnd phrnses. The men nnd women In fnshlonoble clothes, moving nbout before be-fore thnt gloomy spnee of empty auditorium, audi-torium, looked more like marionettes thnn crentures of flesh and blood, drawn this wny nnd thnt nt the bidding of the stout, mnsterful Frenchmnn, who wns contlnunlly muttering exclamations excla-mations nnd banging tho mnnuscrlpt upon his band. It seemed like a dream picture, with unreal men and women moving about aimlessly, saying strange words. Then there came a moment which brought n tingle Into his blood, which plunged his senses Into hot confusion. He rose to his feet. It wni a play which they were rehearsing, of course I It wns n damnable thing to see Louise taken Into thnt cold nnd obviously unrenl embrnce, but It wns only a piny. It wns part of her work. John resumed his sent nnd folded his nrms. With the embrnce hnd fnllen an imaginary curtain, and the rehenr-snl rehenr-snl wns over. They were all crowded together, talking, in the center of the stnge. The prince, who hnd stepped ncross the footlights, mnde his wny to where John wns sitting. "So you have deserted Cumberland for n time?" he courteously Inquired. "I came up Inst night," John replied. "London, nt this senson of the yenr," the prince observed, "is scarcely nt Its best." John smiled. "I nm nfrnld." ho snld, "thnt I nm not crltlcnl. It is eight yenrs since I was hero last. I have not boon out of Ctimhorlnnd during the whole of thnt time." The prince, nfter a moment's incredulous incred-ulous stnre, lnughed softly to himself. him-self. "You nre n very wonderful person. Mr. Strnngowey," he declnred. "I have hoard of your good fortune. Tf I can be of any service to you during your stny in town," he added politely, "plense command me." "You nre very kind," John replied grntofully. Louise broke nwny from the little group and came ncross toward them. "Free nt last !" she exclaimed. "Now-let "Now-let us go out ond have some tea." They made their way down the little passage and out Into the sudden blaze of the sunlit streets. Louise led John to a small enr which wns waiting in the roar. "Tho Carlton," she told the man, as he arranged the rugs. "Ami now," she added, turning to John, "why have you come to London? How long are yoif going to stay? What are you going to do? And most Important of nil in what spirit have you come?" John breathed n little sigh of contentment. con-tentment. "I enme to see you," he confessed con-fessed bluntly. "Dear me!" she exclnlmod, looking at him with a little smile. "How downright down-right you nre !" "Tho truth " he begun. "Has to lie handled very cnrofully," she said, interrupting him. "Tho truth Is either beautiful or crude, nnd the people who meddle with such n won-1 derful thing need n grout deal of tact. , You have come to see me, you sny. I Very Well. then. I will be Just ns frank. I have boon hoping thut you would : come !" "You cun't imagine how good It Is to hear you say that," he declnred. "Mind," she wont on, "I have been hoping it for more reasons than one. You have come to realize, I hope, that It Is your duty to try to soe a little more of life than you possibly can, leading n patriarchal existence among your flocks and herds." They were silent for several moments. mo-ments. "I thought you would come," Louise unl at last ; "nnd I am glad, but even In these tlrst few minutes I want to say so thing to you. If you wish to really understand the people you meet hero and the life they lead, don't be ItlCO your brother too quick to Judge. I'o not bug your prejudices too tightly. You will eoine across many problems, many situations which will seem strange to you. Do not make up your mind about anything In a hurry." "I will remember that," he promlsod. "Yui must remember, though, that 1 don't expect ever to become a coiert. I believe I am a countryman, Irre.l and born. Still, there are some things that I want to understand, If I can, and, more than anything else I wnnt to see you!" She faced his direct speech this time with more deliberation. "Tell mo exactly why." "If I could tell you that," he replied simply, "I should be able to answer for myself the riddle which has kept me awake at night for weeks and mouths, which has puzzled me more than anything else In life has ever done.'' "You reully huve thought of me, then?" , "Didn't yon always know that 1 ohould?" "Porhops," she admitted . "Anyhow, I always felt that we shonld meet again, that you would come to London. Tho problem Is," she added, smiling, "what to do with you now you are bV A "l haven't come to be a nuisance,' P he assured her. "I Just want a little help from you. I wnnt to understand because It Is your world. I wnnt to feel myself nearer to you. I want " She gripped his arms suddenly. She knew well enough that she had deliberately delib-erately provoked his words, but there was a look in her face almost of fear. "'lioii't bt us be too serious all at gjf k once," she begged quickly. "If you have one fault, my dear big friend from the country," she went on, with Y "I Want to Feel Myself Nearer to You. I Want" a swiftly nssumed gnyety, "It Is thnt you are too serious for your years. Sophy and I between us must try to cure you of that ! You see, we have arrived." (Continued next week.) |