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Show The Girl in the 'Mirror - CHAPTER XI C ontinued 15 "'She dldn' look lak no lady what was goln' on no excu'elon," lie muttered, mut-tered, dnrkly. Laurie rushed buck to his rooms with pounding heart and on the way opened and read at a glance his first note from Doris. It was written In pencil, seemingly on a scrap of paper pa-per torn from the pad he had seen on her desk. "Long Island, I think. An old house, on the Sound, somewhere near Sea Cliff. Hemeniber your promise. No police." That was all there was to It. There was no address, no signature, no date, the writing, though hurried, was clear, beautiful, and full of character. In his rooms, he telephoned the garage for his car, and read and reread the little note. Then, still holding It In his hand, he thought It over. Two things were horribly clear. Shaw's "plan" had matured. He had taken Doris away. And this was the staggering phase of the episode she seemed to have gone willingly. At least she had made no protest, though a mere word, even a look of appeal from her, would have enlisted Sam's help, and no doubt stopped the whole proceeding. Why hadn't she uttered that word? The answer to this, too, seemed fairly clear.' Doris had become be-come a fatalist. She had ceased to hide or fight. She was letting tilings go "his way," as she had declared she would do. Down that dark avenue she had called "his way" Laurie dared not even glance. His mind was too busy making Its agile twists In and out of the tangle. Granting, then, that she hnd gone doggedly to meet the ultimate ul-timate Issue of the experience, whatever what-ever that might be, she had nevertheless neverthe-less appealed to him, Laurie, for help. Why? And why did she know approximately approx-imately where she was to be taken?" Why? Why? Why? Again and again the question had recurred to him, and this time It dug Itself In. Despite his love for her (and he fully realized that this was what it was), despite his own experience of the night befor.e, he had hardly been able to accept the fact that she was, must be. In actual physical danger. When, now, the breath of this realization realiza-tion blew over him, It checked his heart-beats and chilled his very soul. In the next Instant something In him. alert, watchful, and suspicious, addressed ad-dressed him like an Inner voice. "Shaw will threaten," this olce said. "He will fight, and he will even chlorform. But when It comes to a showdown, to the need of definite, final action of any kind, he simply won't be there. He Is venomous, he'd like to bite, but he has no fangs, and he knows It." The vision of Shaw's face, when he hnd choked him during the struggle of Inst night, again recurred to Laurie. Lau-rie. He knew now the meaning of (he look In those projecting eyes. It was fear. Though he had carried off the rest of the interview with entire assurance, during that fight the creature crea-ture had been terror-stricken. "He'll have reason for fear the next lime I get hold of him," Laurie reflected, reflect-ed, grimly. But thnt fear was of him, not of Doris. What might not Doris be undergoing, even now? lie went to the little safe In the wall of his bedroom, and took from it n!l the ready money he found there, oh, If only Rodney were at home! Hut Mr. Bangs had gone out, the hall man said. He also Informed Mr. Devon that his car was at the door. The need of consulting Rodney Increased In-creased In urgency as the difficulties multiplied. Laurie telephoned to Bangs' favorite restaurant, to Epstein's Ep-stein's office, to Sonya's hotel. At the restaurant he was suavely assured that Mr. Bangs was not In the place. At the office the voice of an Injured office boy Informed him that there wasn't never nobody there till half-past half-past nine. Over the hotel wire Sonya's colorful tones held enough surprise to remind Laurie thnt he could hardly hope that even Rodney's budding romance ro-mance would drive him to the side of the lady so early in the morning. He hung up the receiver with a groan of disgust, and busied himself packing a small bag and selecting a greatcoat for his Journey. Also, he went to a drawer and took out the little pistol he had taken away from Doris In the tragic moment of their first meeting. Holding It In his hand, he hesitated. hesitat-ed. Heretofore, throughout his short but varied life, young Devon had depended de-pended upon his well-trained fists to protect him from the violence of others. oth-ers. But when those others were the kind who went In for chloroform and this time there was Doris to think' of. He dropped the revolver Into his pocket, and shot into the ele-Miror ele-Miror and out on the ground floor with the expedition to which the operator op-erator was now becoming accustomed. Tils car was a two-seated "racer," of slender aud beautiful lines. As he took his place at the wheel, the machine ma-chine pulsated like a living thing, panting with a passionate desire to be o!T. Laurie's wild young heart felt 1 tie same longing, but his year in New York hud taught him respect for Irs ti-el'ic laws and this was no time lo take chances. Carefully, almost sedately, he made his way to Third avenue, then up to the Queenshoro oriiige, and across that mighty run-vuy run-vuy to Long Island. Hero tils stock m patience, slender at Ihe best, was jenausteel With a deep breath be By ELIZABETH JORDAN ( by The Century Company.) WNU Servlca "let her out" to a singing speed of sixty miles an hour. A cloud had obscured the sun, quite appropriately, he subconsciously felt, and there were flakes of snow In the air. As he sped through the gray atmosphere, at-mosphere, the familiar little towns he knew seemed to come forward to meet him, like rapidly projected pictures pic-tures on a screen. Flushing, Bayslde, Little Neck, Manhasset, ltoslyn, Glen-head, Glen-head, one by one they floated past. He made the run of twenty-two miles In something under thirty minutes, to the severe disapproval of several policemen, police-men, who shouted urgent Invitations to him to slow down. One of these was so persistent that Laurie prepared to obey; but Just as the heavy hand of the law was about to fall. Its representative rep-resentative recognized young Devon, and waved him on with a forgiving grin. This was not the first time Laurie Lau-rie had "burned up" that stretch of roadway. At the Sea ClIfT station he slowed up ; then, on a sudden Impulse, stopped his car at the platform with sharp precision and entered the tiny waiting-room. From the ticket window win-dow a pretty girl looked out on him with the expression of sudden Interest feminine eyes usually took on when this young man was directly In their Hue of vision. With uncovered curly head deferentially bent, he addressed -v. .UsSsk He Mads the Run of Twenty-Two Miles In Something Under Thirty Minutes. her. Had she happened to notice a dark limousine go by an hour or so before, say around half-past eight or nine o'clock? The girl shook her head. She had not come on duty until nine, and even If such a car had passed she would hardly have observed It, owing to the frequency of" the phenomenon phe-nomenon and her own exacting responsibilities. re-sponsibilities. Laurie admitted that these responsibilities respon-sibilities would claim all the attention of any mind. But was there any one around who might have seen the car, any one, say, who made a specialty of lounging on the platform and watching watch-ing the pulsations of the town's life In this Its throbbing center? No, the girl explained, there were no station loafers around now. The summer was the time for them. Then perhaps she could tell him If there were any nice old houses for rent near Sea Cliff, nice old houses, say, overlooking the Sound, and a little lit-tle out of the town? Laurie's newly acquired will power was proving Its strength. With every frantic Impulse In him crying for action, for knowledge, knowl-edge, for relief from the Intolerable tension he was under, he presented to the girl the suave appearance of a youth at peace with himself and the hour. . The abrupt transitions of the gentleman's gen-tleman's Interest seemed to surprise the lady. She looked at him with a suspicion which perished under the expression In his brilliant eyes. What lie meant, Laurie soberly explained, was the kind of house that might ap- peal to a casual tourist who was passing pass-ing through, and who had dropped Into the station and there had suddenly realized the extreme beauty of Sea Cliff. The girl laughed. She was a nice girl, he decided, and he smiled back at her; for now she was becoming becom-ing helpful. Ves, there was the Varlck place, a mile out and right on the water's edge. And there was the old Klehl place, also on the Sound. These were close together and both for rent, she hnd heard. Also, there was a house In the opposite direction, and on the water's edge. She did not know the name of that house, but she had observed a "To Let" sign on It last Sunday, when she was out driving. Those were all the houses she knew of. She gave him explicit Instructions for reaching all three, and the Interview ended In nn atmosphere of mutual regard and regret. Indeed, the lndy even left her ticket office to follow the gentleman to the door and watch the departure of his chariot. Laurie raced In turn to the Varlck place and the Klehl plnce. Shaw, he suspected, had probably rented some such place, Just as he had rented the East side office. But a very cursory Inspection of the two old houses convinced con-vinced him that they were tenantless. No smoke came from their chimneys, no sign of life surrounded them ; also, he was sure, they were not sufficiently sufficient-ly remote from" other houses to suit the mysterious Shaw. The third house on his list was more promising In appearance, for It stood austerely remote from Its neighbors. But on Its soggy lawn two soiled children chil-dren and a dog played In carefree abandon, and from the sUle of the house came the piercing whistle of an underling cheerily engaged In sawing wood and shouting cautions to the children. Quite plainly, the closed-up, shuttered place" was In charge of a caretaker,- whose offspring were, in temporary possession of its grounds. Laurie Inspected other houses, dozens of them. He made his way Into strange, new roads. Nowhere was there the slightest clue leading to the house he sought. It was one o'clock In ihe afternoon when, with an exclamation of actual anguish, he swung his car around for the return Journey to the station. For the first time the hopelessness of his mission came home to him. There must be a few hundred houses on the Sound near Sea CHIT. How was he to find the right one? Perhaps that girl had thought of some other places, or could direct him to the best local real estate agents. Perhaps he should have gone to them in the first place. He felt dazed, Incapable In-capable of clear thought. As the car swerved his eye was caught by something bright lying farther up the road, in the direction from which he had just turned. For an 'instant he disregarded it. Then, on second thought, he stopped the machine. Jumped out, and ran back. There, at the light, by the wayside, lay a tiny jagged strip of silk that seemed to blush as he stared down at it. Slowly he bent, picked It up, and, spreading It' ncross his palm, regarded regard-ed It with eyes that unexpectedly were wet. It was a two-Inch bit of the Roman Ro-man scarf, hacked off, evidently, by the same hurried scissors that had severed the end In his pocket. He realized now what that cutting had meant. With -her hare-and-hounds' experience In mind, Doris had cut off other strips, perhaps half a dozen or more, and had undoubtedly dropped them as a trail for him to pick up. Possibly he had already nnseelngly passed several. But that did not matter. mat-ter. He was on the right track now. The house was on this road, but farther far-ther up. He leaped Into the car again and started back. He drove every slowly, forcing the reluctant racer to crawl along, and sweeping every Inch of the roadside with a careful scrutiny, but he had gone more than a mile before he found the second scent. This was another hit of the vivid silk, dropped on a country road that turned off the main road at a sharp angle. With a i , heart fi'lr exclamation of thanksgiving, he turned Into this bypath. It was narrow, shallow-rutted, and apparently little used. It might stop anywhere. It might lead nowhere. It wound through a field, a meadow, u bit of deep wood, .through which he saw the gleam of water. Then, quits suddenly, It again widened Into a real road, merging Into an avenue of trees that led In turn to the entrance of a big dark-gray house, In a somber setting set-ting of cedars. Laurie stopped his car and thoughtfully thought-fully nodded to himself. This was the place. He felt that he would have recognized It even without that guld- j ing flame of ribbon. It was so absolutely ab-solutely the kind of pluce Shaw's melodramatic Instincts would lead him to choose. There was the look about it that clings to houses long untenanted, a look not wholly due to Its unkempt grounds and the heavy boards over Its windows. It had been without life for a long, long time, but somewhere in It, he knew, life was stirring now. From a side chimney a thin line of smoke curled upward.' On the second floor, shutters, newly unbolted, creaked rustlly In the January wind. And, yes, there It was; outside of one of the unshuttered windows, as if dropped there by a bird, hung a vivid bit of ribbon. Rather precipitately Laurie backed his car to a point where he could turn it, and then raced back to the main road. His primitive Impulse had been to drive up to the entrance, pound the door until some one responded, re-sponded, nnd then fiercely demand the privilege of seeing Miss Mayo. But that, he knew, would never do. He must get rid of the car, come back on foot, get into the house In some manner, man-ner, and from that point meet events as they occurred. Facing this prospect, he experienced an incredible combination of emotions relief and panic, recklessness and caution, fear and elation. He had found her. For the time being, he frantically assured his trembling inner in-ner seif, she was safe. The rest was up to him, and he felt equal to it. He was Intensely stimulated ; for now, at last, in his ears roared the rushing tides of life. CHAPTER XII The House in the Cedars Less than half a mile back, along the main road, Laurie found a country coun-try garage, in which he left his car. It was In charge of a silent but Intelligent Intel-ligent person, a somewhat unkempt and haggard middle-aged man, who agreed to keep the machine out of sight, to have it ready at any moment of the day or night, nnd to accept a handsome addition to his" regular charge in return for his discretion. He was only mildly Interested In his new patron, for he had classified him without effort. One of them college boys, this young fella was, and up to some lark. Just what form that lark might take was not a problem which stirred Henry Burke's sluggish imagination. Less than twenty hours before his seventh had been born ; and his wife was delicate aud milk was seventeen cents a quart, and the garage business was not what it had been. To the victim vic-tim of these obsessing reflections the appearance of a handsome youth who dropped live-dollar bills around as If they were seed potatoes was In the nature of a miracle and an overwhelming overwhelm-ing relief. His mind centered on the t'.ve-dollar bills, and his lively interest inter-est In them assured Laurie of Burke's presence In the garage at any hour when more bills might possibly be dropped. While he was lingeringly lighting a cigarette. Laurie asked a few questions. ques-tions. Who owned the big house back there In the cedar grove, on the bluff overlooking the sound? Burke didn't know. All he knew, and freely told, was that it had been empty ever since he himself had come to the neighborhood, 'most two years ago. Laurie strolled out of the garage with a well-assumed air of Indifference Indiffer-ence to the perplexities of life, but his heart was racked by them. As he hesitated near the entrance, uncertain which way to turn, he saw that behind be-hind the garage there was a tool shed, and following the side path which led to this, he found In the rear of the shed a workman's bench, evidently evi-dently little used In these cold January Janu-ary days. Tacitly, It Invited the discoverer dis-coverer to solitude and meditation, nnd I.atnle gratefully dropped upon It, glad of the opportunity to escape Burke's eye and uninterruptedly think things out. But the daisied path of calm rellection was not for him tlicn. Tlieorei Ically, of course, his plaD would be to wait until night and then, sheltered by the darkness, to approach ap-proach the house, like a hero of melodrama, melo-drama, and in some way secure e trance. Hut even as this ready-nmue campaign presented Itself, a dozen objections to it reared up In his mind. The first, of course, was the delay. It was not yet two o'clock In the afternoon, and darkness would not fall until five, even unwisely ussuin-Ing ussuin-Ing that It would be safe to approach the pjace as soon as darkness came In thrr? hours all sorts of tl;lr;gs might happen; and the prospect of i.-ark'.rig lime (luring that Interval, while his unbridled Imagination ra.-. awi-y wHh him, was oue Laurie rauu not face. TO Bl CONTINUED.) |