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Show CLOTHING I I AUTHOR c"TnELOh'c: I loui5jo5EPH y" ; 5 VVHvL copyright bt lows joifPrt VAricr LYDIA BEGINS TO SUSPECT HER FATHER OF DECEIVING HER IN SOME MANNER AND SHE IS DEEPLY GRIEVED j SOME MYSTERIOUS THING SCARES HIM Synopsis I.ycliu Craven, traveling as Lucy Carteret, runs away f idiii her iOngli.sh Inline tu go to lier father, Thnddeus Craven, in New York, whom .she hasn't seen fur live years. Three days out on board tin; .steamer Alsatla, she runs plump into Craven, making love to Mrs. Merrllees, a young widow, engaged to marry him. Later Craven explains ex-plains his mysterious conduct and supposed bachelorhood by telling Lydlu he Is a British secret service agent In America. She Is attacked at night and a small box containing supposed valuable documents, which he has given her to keep for him, is stolen. Quoin, an amateur detective, recovers It for her, and when the party lands at New York, I.ydla, carrying the box openly, has no trouble passing the customs Inspection. In-spection. When Mrs. Merrllees declares a .$00,000 necklace and the inspector Iluds It tin imitation worth $'!i0. she is held and searched as a smuggler. Despite past tricks, however, Mrs. Merrilees Is honest this time. I CHAPTER X Continued. 12 After n brief conference he turned hack to Lyitia and refer. "A bad business!" busi-ness!" lie doubted in an undertone, wagging his head. "Hetty's played the game straight as a die this trip; but nothing on earth will make these people peo-ple believe that, after the way she's carried on In the past. Looks like an nil-day session no good your sticking round: nothing either of you can do. Quoin and I will stand by Betty; but you'd better cut along. You won't mind dropping Lydia at the Great Eastern hotel, 1'eter?" "No I won't precisely what you might call mind," Fetor declared, brightening. "I engaged rooms by wireless yester- day. It'll lake a day or two, you know, to readjust my diggings to receive a daughter. Now clear out like good children 1" Lydia bnde hurried farewells. Giving Quoin her hand, she hoped he wouldn't forget to call, as he'd promised. Quoin was persuaded that such oversight would be symptomatic of insanity. His tone was light; but Ins direct and penetrating pene-trating gaze embarrassed the girl, and she wn fluttered by consciousness that her cheeks were unaccountably aglow, her fingers tremulous in his firm grasp. Betty Merrilees offered a cool cheek to Lydia's lips. "Don't worry about me !" she protested pettishly. "Besides, In your heart of hearts you believe I'm guilty you know you do!" "I don't !" Lydia insisted, and in the next breath, "You didn't honestly?" Betty's mood melted transiently. "Honest Injun!" she declared with mirth in her voice, but downright candor can-dor in the eyes that held Lydia's. "And I don't blame anyone for climbing up on the feuce, either," she added in cryptic phrase, "all except these despicable de-spicable customs men!'' Peter's town car was waiting at the pier entrance, and when he had helped lier into it, Lydia, looking out through the limousine door, viewed a section of (lie throng of passengers waiting for (axicabs, in the forefront of which stood two men. One faced her and first attracted attention at-tention by his singularly persistent stare a stoutish body, by no means tall, snug in n braided morning coat the London mode, glossy topper, white spats and all, down to the silver-mounted stick of malacca wearing a humorous humor-ous eye in his square-jawed, scarlet face; one who would readily pass current cur-rent as an elderly and retired gentleman gentle-man of means, with n penchant for good cooking and outdoor life. His companion, some inches taller and built upon more rakish lines, stood half turned aside so that she could see little more than the salient line of a dark, lenu cheek, and a long and narrow nar-row back-head. But that was quite enough to make her sit up with a start, remembering that she had seen him once before in precisely that pose, outside out-side the window of her stateroom. He turned for a moment toward her bringing bring-ing to her view his right eye covered by a black patch ! nappily Peter chose that moment to climb into the car, and so blocked out the disturbing vision. On the other hand, he was quick to note the evidence evi-dence of her distress. "Hello!" he cried in deep concern. "What's up? Surely you're not feeling ill!" She shoJt her head vigorously, and in heedlesj agitation raised a gloved hand and pointed. "Peter, who is that man the tall one. there, with the black patch over his eye?" "Which? Oh, I see!" Here the car drew away, so that Black Patch was no longer visible. "I'm not dead sure," Peter resumed, "but he looks a heap like a chap Quoin pointed out iu the smoking room one night one of a brace of deep-sea sharks we had aboard. Chap with a queer name Lefty no, I've got it Southpaw Smith. Why do you ask? You certainly cer-tainly can't know the fellow !" Lydia sank bade into her corner, cvlih a heac'- tiwhirl. "No." she said, i "no, I don't know him. I he somehow some-how reminded me of something very unpleasant." CHAPTER XI. From the manner of the room clerk Lydia inferred that tne name of Thad-deus Thad-deus Craven was well esteemed by the management of the Great Eastern. Nor was this impression at nil modified by the rooms to which she was shown a suite so complete and luxurious in appointments ap-pointments that its appeal was strong to the sybaritic strain with which heredity had endowed the girl. Toward six o'clock she dropped, worn out, into an armchair beside an open window in the living room. Wearily the girl's eyelids drooped. Insensibly she drowsed, drifting into a sort of halfwaking nightmare, wherein she with her fathor waged incessant war against powers of darkness, shapeless, featureless, inscrutably malign The last rays of the sinkingsun flooded flood-ed her face, even as it impregnated her dream, with the hue of blood. Twilight, succeeding, caught together the gaping gap-ing arras of the sky. Minutes wove a web of hours Abruptly Lydia found herself on her feet, a low cry shuddering in her throat, aware that the room was ablaze with light, that she was no longer alone. Then, calming, she realized nothing more terrible than Craven's return. He stood near the center of the room, staring, evidently at a loss to account for her agitation, his face slightly flushed yet lowering. "Well?" he demanded sharply. "What the deuce is the matter with you?" "You you startled me," she faltered fal-tered with a tremulous smile. "I must have fallen asleep, waiting for you and then I had a horrible dream " Craven's look swept her from head to foot, captious and ugly. "You haven't dressed," he said meaning that she hadn't changed for dinner. "Been asleep long?" "Why some hours, I presume. What time is it? It was just sunset, the last I knew." "After .nine o'clock now. Then you've had no dinner?" Lydia shook her head. "I was waiting wait-ing for you." "Yon shouldn't have," he grumbled. "Thought I told you not to count on me. I've been busy of course, flying round all afternoon, getting Betty fettled. fet-tled. Otherwise should have been home long ago." "I have been worried about Betty Mrs. Merrilees " "Oh, that business !" He smiled grimly. "It was over sooner than I expected. ex-pected. Unpleasant for her to submit to being searched by a female inspector. inspec-tor. But of course they found nothing, and had to let her go. And now she's threatening all manner of trouble." "Then the necklace was really stolen? I'm so sorry!" "Yes." Craven eyed her curiously for an instant. "Y"es, it was stolen, right enough, and a clean-cut Job., if you ask me. The thief must have been laying for somebody to buy the thing. He had the counterfeit all ready, of course." "But that's what I don't understand." "Simplest thing in the world. Chance is he found the copy ready made to his hand. Nine out of ten of these smart Frenchwomen, like the original owner of the collar, have their best pieces duplicated iu paste for public wear. Somehow or other he must have got hold of that. The only question is. when did he make the substitution? Betty swears it was the genuine article ar-ticle she received, and it hasn't been out of her possession since, except while in the purser's safe, and when J brought it to her, up there in tht veranda cafe, day before yesterday. Looks as if it was up to the purser unless you care to point the wel;-kr.ovn finger of suspicion at me or Peter!" "How absurd !" "Think so? Well, I'm glad you do, my dear." His humor Vid softened. Drawing near, he pinched her cheek affectionately. "Not that there's any reason for you to worry. Only. If Berry still "ants to play Lady l;.iu:ra:'ul at your wedding, she'll have to Ohburso the pi'ice of a:iu:her nec!;!ace." "Daddy ! As if I thought uf that !" "Probably you don't, being yours. -If. Stiil you'll marry some day. and pejsrl collars ilon't grow on every bough of orange bb.-oins." "I'm not thinking of being married," Lydia murmured, looking away. "Oh. 1 presume not i.o more than ; the next girl of yonr age! Nothing doing do-ing with Peter Trat'r, eh:" "Oh, daddy! Don't be silly !" Lydia met his gaze fairly and hon- estly, laughter iu her eyes, and Craven I accepted her disclaimer without ques- : lion. : "Well, I'm sorry for Peter. He's a j good boy well off too. And he's mighty strong for you. Mustn't let yourself be ! misled by Peter's reputation. Just be- ! cause he's got the name of a gay young butterfly is no real reason why he shouldn't be in dead earnest this time." I "I wish you wouldn't say such things." "Well don't forget him, when you do come to think of marrying. And," Craven dismissed the subject airily, "of course you would be happier as mistress mis-tress of your own establishment than well playing second fiddle in mine." Had he slapped her the girl could hardly have suffered deeper pain and humiliation. He wanted to be rid of her! That truth was out at last. However How-ever kindly Craven's primal impulse to deceive, the time had come when he could or would no longer dissemble. Her thoughts worked swiftly. Since he found her a drag, she must cease to be such at once instantly tonight. Until she could find some way to he-come he-come self-supporting the hospitable doors of Mrs. BeggarstalT's home offered of-fered a haven where Lydia felt sur of finding a welcome, sympathy, affection. affec-tion. With a brisk tread and a cheerful countenance Craven returned to the sitting sit-ting room. "Hello! What's troubling my girl? Something on your mind, eh?" She eyed him gravely. "Do you really real-ly want me to marry Peter Traft?" she demanded. "Why consult my desires? You'll do as you please anyway just as I did at your age. It's a good match, and if you find you care enough for the youngster," young-ster," he raised his hands in mock benediction, bene-diction, "bless you, my children 1 But upon my word ! never can tell about you women. Only two minutes ago " "That was when I still believed you wanted me with you, when I thought I might be a help to you, not an obstacle in the path of your happiness. Better to marry at once the first bidder and repent too late, if that must be than to know I'm in your way." "Liddy, my dear little girl !" The tone was fond, the smile indulgent ; but with sharpened vision she saw through the pretense. "No!" she cried passionately. "No! Don't don't waste time trying to deceive de-ceive me, daddy !" Turning she stumbled blindly into her bedroom, shut the door, and threw herself across the bed, sobbing. After some time the door latch clicked. "Liddy 1" The girl made no answer. She couldn't; she was struggling to hush her sobs. "Liddy !" Craven came to her side, and seated himself on the bed. "Little girl," he said, with melancholy, "you've hurt me terribly, misjudged me so cruelly. But no matter. I realize that you don't understand." He touched her hair caressingly. She suffered this without response. Tonight To-night her wits were keyed to a pitch of divination. Beneath the cloying tenderness ten-derness in his accents she read the truth too clearly. "I've just telephoned for dinner. It'll be up presently, and I want you to try to eat something. Get up, please, and dry your eyes, compose yourself, and be fair to me." "Very well," Lydia said stiffly, without with-out stirring. With a final approving pat Craven rose. "Thank you, my dear," he said gently. He sighed, moved toward the door, but there paused. "By the way," he observed carelessly, "that thing I gave you the other night the puzzle box it is safe, I presume?" "Yes," said Lydia, sitting up. "Do you want it?" "If convenient." Without another answer she rose and went to the bureau, found her handbag, hand-bag, produced the puzzle box, aud silently, with averted face, gave it to her father. His footsteps were audible crossing the sitting room. Then she heard him closing his bedchamber door. With some effort Lydia pulled herself her-self together, rose, bathed her face and eyes with cold water, then sought her mirror to survey and repair as best she cTmld the ravages of tears. Do you suspect Craven of being be-ing up to some trickery? Vhy should he become grouchy tv Ms daughter? There is a big devs1-opment devs1-opment of the story in the next installment. ITO BE CONTINUED.) |
