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PACE TEN THE OSHAWA DAILY TIMES, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1929 4 | The WIFE WHO FAILED And the Girl who and Brought Happiness. Instalment Six Harvey Garrard, who has sever given much attention to the business left by hig father beyond drawing his regular al- lowance, is suddenly called home by the death of the ac- tive partner and faces a finan- cial crisis in the old-establish-~ ed leather pouse which no one imagined could exist. He finds that unless he can raise thaus- ands almost overnight he is likely to become bankrupt ' with no plan to tlurn for a livelihood. Mildred his wife, absolutely refuse. to help him, being en- tirely out of sympathy with her husband and taunting him with the flat declaration that she married him to be sup- ported in luxury. Closed in his office late at, night, Harvey tries to find a solution to his problem and finally wanders around the deserted warehouse. In the reception room he finds a stranger dead in a chair, The man's papers show him to be Ebenezer Swayle, an Ameri- can business man, and Gar- ard finds $1,000,000 in ne-. Tht securities in his pos- session--bonds which will se'~ tlo all his financial worries. He succumbs to the tempta- tion and appropriates the se- curties. The Coroner decides that the man has died of heart disease, and mo one seems to have any knowledge of the valuables. But one night Har- very is again alone in his of- fice and, seeing a mysterious light in the reception room discovers a girl there -- who announces herself as the grand-daughter of Swayle, just arrived from Paris. Now Go on With the Story Harvey Garrard threw open the door of his office, and the girl paused before him quite naturally, taking the chair to which he point- ed. He left one light burning in the warehouse and seated himsell behind the heavily shaded lamp on nis desk, For a moment or two the situation seemed outside his grasp. He could think of nothing to say to her. All the time it was in his brain that this was in all probabil- ity the girl whom he had robbed. "your grandfather's death must have been a great shock to you. Miss Swayle," he ventured at last. "It was a great shock," she ad- mitted, "also a great disappoint- ment. I was ready--I waited in Paris for the word to come. Noth- tng happened. Then came a cable trom America. That is how I knew that he was dead." : Her voice was very low, and its {ntonation showed traces of a long residence in France. She seemed, considering the unusual circum- stances of her visit, singularly self- possessed. "you were expecting to spend some time with him in England " he inquired. "1 pelieve that my grandfather mednt to take me back with him to America," she confided. "I have never seem him, Ha quarreled with my father when he left home and married my mothe, who was a ¥renchwoman." 1 "AK!" he murmured, reanzing row the cause of her slight accent and the indefinable attractiveness of her simple clothes. "My father and mother are both dead---my mother not very long ago." she continued. "Since then my grandfather has made me a small allowance. I was to learn shorthand and typewriting in Eng- lish and French. That Ihave done. A month ago I had a letter from him. He sail that he was coming to England and wished to see me. "A fortnight later I heard again. He was at the Savoy ""~'el. he sald, and would send for me in-a few days. He told me to prepare to leave Paris, 2s he had no other re- lative and would wish me to live with him. He also told me that he had brought me over what he call- ed a 'surprising present." "Did he say what sort of a pre- sent?" Harvey asked quickly. "He said nothing, but somehow I fancied that it was mongy. It ccem- ed only natural to me that he should wish me to live with him because he had no other relative in the world, but after I had received that letter there was silence, I wait- ed every day and I heard nothing, and then a cable from America-- just to tell me that he was dead! The cable did not tell me what to do, so I though I had better come over." -- "And you have found no trace of the present?" She sighed. There was just a suspicion of dimness in her eyes. "I suppose it is selfish of me," she acknowledged, "but I am very disappointed. The money he had with nim, they told me at the hotel, was scarcely enough to pay his bill and the expenses of his funeral They mentioned your name as one who hed helped." «31s apegars vo have heen 2 very sccentric person," Harvey observ ed. "V's sabled out in the firm and his iater -.atimer replied that he had a2! reaat In the business and 'eas ehru wraveling for them ak & salean;ia, 'here bas been no tivo Vor a ieltar yel, dot they seem uposed that he was car- 1ciderable sum of money she tewarked discon- &isappeard. Do obbed, Mr, Gar- BT you thiak be was rar?" Harvey's fingernails dug into his Saved Garrard from His Crime -- flesh. The girl's eyes were a tor- ture to him. "I should say not," he replied. "What I think you will discover is that he has feft his money with some one on deposit. You will get it some day--I am sure that you will get it some day." "Meanwhile," she pointed out bitterly, "I nave spent every penny 1 have in the world buying these stupid black clothes, and a second- class ticket to Americe." "You are going to the States?" "My uncle in Paris thought I had better," she confided. "After all, my grandfather had no other relative, and he must have had a house some property in America, There may be something left for me. Do you think that I am very greedy? Is that why you logk at me so strangely?" "17 Of course not." he protest- ed, a little startled. "Why on earth should I think that?" "Perhaps because I seem so much more disappointed for my own sake than I am sorry about him, After all. T am not a hypoe- rite. T am too much a Frenchwo- man for that. He was nearly 80 years old and he had heart dis- eate. For ten yearg I have heen as miserable as any girl could be, always poor, poor, poor. Then that letter! And now--nothing!" The teas in her eyes were mani- fest now. Her lips tregabled. Har- vey groaned to himself, "My dear young lady," he assur- ed her earnestly, almost feverishly, "go far as regards money you need have no anxiety. You did the wis- est thing in the world when you came to see me. Your grand- {father was one of the most valued friends of thd firm. .I am con- vinced--absolutely convinced -- that we shall discover where he has deposited his money. In the mean- time, you must let us act as your bankers. It is our duty. It will be our pleasure." She loajed across at hims--sur- prised, yet obviously grateful. Har- very, utterly unused to noticihg such things, still ound himself realizing that hers were the only eyes he had ever seen in his life which seemed more beautiful for tears. "Why are you so kind?" she ask- ed a little abruptly. "It is not a matter of kindness," he rejoined. "Your grandfather was a cordial friend of the House. He died in these premises, on a visit to us. We shall certainly wish to be of every possible assist- ance to you." "Will you find me some work?" she asked. "I do not wis: for charity. I should like to Le able to earn something until the money is found." "Work?" he repeated, what sort of work?" She looked at him without shad- ow of coquetry, coolly, almost felt, appraisingly. "I should like to be your secret- "Why, lary," she decided. "My secretary? Why, I haven't got one," he replied startled. "Then {it is quite time that vou had," she said firmly. "I know that, because I saw how many peo- ple were passing in and out of your office al' the time this evening. I can type, take down in shorthand, and TI understand French as well as English." "We will fina you a pnst witn the firm, at any rate," he promis- ed. "I thought you said that you were going abroad though?" "I shall go to America, but I shall come back almost at once," she explained. "I do not wish to stay there, I am sure that the peo- ple where my grandfather used to live are very narrow, because they were all so cruel to my father when he came to France and would have nothing to do with business. And thank you much for offering me a post in your firm, but T wish to be your private secretary," He hesitated for a moment. He had a sydden impulse of doubt con- cerning her, a queer, uncomfort- able feeling that there was perhaps some motive &t the back of her mind in making thig unusual visit at this unusual hour, an instinct of investigation--or was it accusa- tion? He lacked the boldness, how- ever, to put his suspicion into words. "We can discuss this again when | America," he "Personally I feel con- that time ar- missing you get back from suggested. fident that before rives, your grandfather's estate will have came to light. She sat little forward $o that her face came out of the shadow, "I shall know be(ter when I come back from America," she said, "what my actual position is, If the money is found and there is a great deal of it, then I shall en- joy myself and I shall not work, 17 there is only a little, why then I will work, and if I do that I will be your secretary." "I hope for your sake that there will pe a great deal." he de- clared, s'anding up and heginning to arrange his papers in the small attachd case which he had borrowed from the office below. "That is not very gallane," she replied, "but then you are English, | are you not? They say what they mean always, I will remember that T.am American and I will ad- mit that T hope so too." "How did you manage to get in and hide yourself in the waiting room without being questioned?" he asked -curiously. "Every one was too busy te take any notice of me," she explained. "I just came up the stairs to the first floor and found the waiting rcom from the description in tie news- papers. I sat there and pretended he By E. Phillips Oppenheim Copright by E. Phillips Oppenheim to be waiting for some one and no one took my notice, Then it got quieter and quieter and just. as I had ma'e up mind to knock at your door, T heard you come out-- and voila!" "You frightened me to death," he confessed, "I, too, was gelting very scared," she admited. "I had that feeling when I remembered that I was pro- bably siting in the chair where my grandfather died. I was frighten- ed too, when I saw you come out of your office into that great pool of darkness. When I am your secret- ary; if we have to stay late, there must be more lights." He closed pis bag and fetched his hat and stick from the rail, "Very well, then," he said, "it is arranged that so son as you re- turn from America, TI shal! expect to see you again. Meanwhile, can I take you anywhere?" "Well, you must not leave me here," she laughed. "I retrrn to the Savoy. .I cannot afford it, but is for one night more only." "I will drop you there if you like," he suggested. On the winding stairs her finz- ers clutched for a moment at his arm as though she felt herself in danger of falling. The small heel of her shoe did, infact, catch in the iron interstices, and her pale face, with its mocking moutp and scar- let lips. was close to hig as he held her up. He was conscious of an odor subtler and more penetrating than the smell of dried leather whic hung about the place--the perfume of some crushed exotic. Her fingers still rested unon his arm ag they crossed the floor of the warehouse toward the outside doors. He threw them open and stepped out into the street with an odd little feeling of relief, "T suppose [ ghall have to get us- ed to it it I sit there all day with you," she remarked, as she walked by his side, "I do not think that I like the smell of leather. Do vou?" "Not much," he confessed. *I am like you, though, I have to get used to it. Do you mind walking as far as London Bridge Station? We can get a taxi there.' "Of course not," she acquiesced. They made their way through the deserted streets, lined with dark, empty warehouses streets wide, but dimly lit, from which the roar of traffic had long since de- parted. In the station yard at Lon- don Bridge they found plenty of taxies. The girl sank into her place with a little sigh of relief. "I suppose 80," she admitted. *'It has been a very troublesome day." A street lamp shone into the taxi, and he was conscious of the faint violet lines under her eyes and the weary drop of her mouth, "Have vou had any dinper?" he asked her. "Dinner? No. warehouse at 6 o'clock, "And what did you lunch?" She reflected for a moment. "A cup of coffee and what they call here a roll. It was terrible." "Ridiculous!" he exclaimed. *As it happens, T have had no dinnér myself. I will come into the Savoy with you and we will have some- thing in the grill room." She sat up with an exclamation of delight. "But that is wonderful!" she ex- elaimed. "I know now that I am starving, but I should never have | had the courage to enter that place alone. Yuo are being a very good friend to me, Mr. Garrard " Her grateful little glance, this time .not without its spice cf coq- uetry, stabbed him. In his earn- estness he became almost sentent- ious. "My dear--young lady," he said, "TI hope you will always aprreciate the fact that I wish to remain so." In the grill-room where Harvey was a rare but valued client, they found a secluded table and atten- tive, almost eager service. The girl sipped her cocktail, -critically at first but afterward with aprpe- ciation. She set down her empty glass wity a sigh of content. Her litle wave of the hand toward the courtyard outside," where many guests were arriving for supper in the restauranf, was expressive-- almost eloquent. "You cannot imagine how much T have been looking forward to all this sort of thing," she confessed simply, "I love to be gay, to wear nice clothes and to go out te sup- per where there is music and dane- ing, It is very hard to be so dis- oppointed." "But my dear Miss Swazle," Harvey protested eagerly, "you are not gonig to be disappointed. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that your grandfather was a rich man, and I am absolutely cer- tain that his property will soomer or later materialize, I am perfect- ly willing--my firm would be gpex- fectly willing," he corrected him- self--*to advance you any reason- able sum you might wish, to be repaid only when you came into possession of "your grandfather's i estate." |* "And supposing T never came {into it?" she demanded. *'Suppos- {ing the money is never found? Then I should owe you a great deal and have no means of payirg the debt.' "The risk would be mine I am willing to take it," he nounced confidently, She 'looked across at him with the enigmatic expression in her eyes which had once before 'puzzled him; an expression of doubt, half of nockery, " "May I think about this, please?' she begged. *'I am cer- tain to adcept your offer sooner or later, and you must not think that IT was in your " have for and an- I am ungrateful; there are rea- sons why I hesitate. They tell me in Paris," she went on, after a moment's pause, 'that. I have in- herited only one American trait-- I am very independent. You can perhaps understand that. There can be no one in the world who wants money as I do, but I want it my own way and I want it to be my own. If it does not come to me so--well, that is another pro- blém, Then I may change my views. Just at present I am cling ing to Qe forlornhope that you or some one will discover for me my grandfather's fortune." _ The simple meal which Harvey had ordered was presently -sarved and for a time they ate almost in silence, It was nearly 9 o'clock! and Harvey himself had lunched! lightly. His companion was frank- ly, but gracefully ravenous, She gave a little ery of delight; when the champaigne was opened and her enthusiasm seemed to reach its limit with the arrival of a dish of asparagus. "You must not think, please, that IT am always as greedy as this," she explained, "but I have been too worried and disappointed to eat anything for days, and in any case 1 hate ordering things. In Paris I know the little places where I would slip in and they would bring me what I wanted without wy say- ing a word, but here it. is sll dif- ferent. Being quite alone, too, is not pleasant in London." Looking across at her without immediate apprehension of her meaning, Harvey was suddenly sur- prised . He was unexpectedly con- scious that his companion was 2a most attractive, not to say alluring person, The paleness of hsr com- plexion, which had seemed a little ghastly in the dim ligths cf the warelduse and in those a.most tragic momentg of their first meet- ing, revealed itself now to be gomething far removed frcm the pallor of ill health. Under those gently shaded lights he realized the delicate ereaminess of it, the fine silky yebrows, the dep setting ot her dark vivid eyes, in which there seemed to he some fleck of Itallan red about her mouth, soft and full --the mouth of & woman of senti- ment ond feeling. Women had counted for so little among the interests of his "ife that to pe supping tete-a-tete like this was almost a novelty. He was aware of an unanalyzable pleasure in her obvious content, in reslizing the small perfection of her person which appealed to his fastidious taste, the delicately manicured fin- zor nails, the smoothly brushed hair the absenceof jewelry, the al- most etégant simplicity of her black clothes, which even to hie ignorance pronounced themcelves inexpensive. He ordered coffee re- luctantly and accepted her choice of liquors--green creme de menthe --without a shudder. He was cur- iously content, unwilling to leave her and make his way back to Cur- zon street. "Tell me about your life in Par- is,"" he invited. : She accepted a cigarette and teaned a little across the table to- ward him in a perfectly natural ate titude, yet one which he found de- lightfully confidential, "It has been very ehe confided, *'and lately very dreary. My mother was 2n act- ress who was at one time quite suc- cessful, but not lately. My fath- er came to Paris to study art against his father's will, of course. He never succeeded, and ever since [ can remember we have been poor. Then he tried to go into business. but if ever he had any ability--I mean commercial ability --nhe had lost it in the studios. My unrcmatie," | mother was often angry with him. She found life, I fancy, very hard. Then, tive years ago, he diel. My mother was getting too old for the parts she liked to play and very often she had no engagements at all." "And you," you never want stage?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, la, la, 1a," she murmured reminiscently, 'it was not that I was anxious, put there were man- agers who used to come - lo the house, who were continually beg- ging that I should. Mother always refused, though." "Why?" She hesitated for a moment and flecked the a#h from her cigarette, "Well, she confided, "mother al- ways used to declare that the life was far too dangerous for a young girl. She knew that I loved lux- ury and heautiful things and every- thing was so sordid with us. I think, however, that she had an- other reason. We were tather alike and she knew that they want- ed me to play the parts shg had been used to playing. The very idea of that seemed to make her angry. After all ,why not, It is natural," . He nodded. Y "did the he inquired, to go on "1 can understand it," he admit- | ted briefly. "It was, T believe," she went on, "my mother's fear that I might have to go on the stage to keep us alive that made her persuade my uncle to write to my grandfather, After that he made us % small al- lowance and I was taught short- hand and typewriting. Then my mother died. father and heard from him that he was coming to Europe, that 1 need have no further anxiety, for he was going to take care 'of me. Tor weeks T could scarcely sleer, I was so exacted. Then came the letter, telling me to get ready, and after that nothing till I received the cable from America. That is the history of my life, Mr. Garrard id "No love affairs?" he ventured. "What Frenchman would dare to ask such a question so biuntly?" she laughed, "Shall T make then a confession to you, Mr. Garrard?" ! He was suddenly grave, His | face seemed almost'stern and anxi- ons. through the litle cloud of thin cigarette smoke which hung bet- ween them. "What is it?" he demanded. |] Her eyebrows were slightly rais- ed. She noticed with something like amazement the change fn him. Then, as thougp realizing its im- port, she laughed softly and with satisfaction. "My confession is humiliating but not compromising," .she con. fided. "It is only lately that 1 have made the discovery, but is is un- doubtedly the truth, For some reason or other I am not attarctive to men--not to the general run of men, at any rate----osrecially Frenchmen. Can you tell me why, Mr, Garrard? It begins to trouble me." 4g MYSTERY LETTERS CONCERNING WILL Professional Dancer Dissat- isfied With Legacy of Rich Patron UNKNOWN "G.B.C." "Papa" and Story of Two Women Heard in Court London~"The case reveals a de- termined effort to secure by means of a forged will an estate valued at £231,000." : This statement was made by Mr, Gerald Dodson at Marylebone Police Court when he prosecuted Alexander Henry, aged 43, a professional dan- cer, of Manor House, Marylebone, W. It is alleged that Henry forged and uttered the will of the late Mr. Charles J. E. Sparke, formerly Un- der-Sheriff of Norfolk, who lived at the Castle, Bury St. Edmunds, Henry acted as companion to Mr. Sparke amd was left £10,000. "Directly the will was made public Henry began to reveal himself in his true colors which were those of a disappointed man," said Mr. Dobson, "G. B. C." Mystery "He wrote a letter in which he said: 'I am positive he (Mr. Sparke) would never wish to sec me like this, and that he intended to make a set- tlement on me apart from the will is obvious." About that time there arrived a curious letter signed "G. B. C." The handwriting of this and other letters, saic Mr. Dobson, bore strong similarity to Henry's, and in the submission of the prosecution, Henry cither wrote them or caused them to be written, This letter was addressed to Mr. Sparke at the Castle, and was date nearly a month after his death. I read:-- "Dear Charles,--I am grieved t hear your news (this Mr, Do said referred to Mr, Sparke's illness). Things may not be so bad as you anticipate. Certainly your premier duty is to the boy. He is well pluck- ed, and if £30,000 is left to him apart from the £10,000 you mention he ought to be comiortable. Cheer up, old man, Your old friend--G, B. C." "G. B.C" was unknown, said Ison I nursing For that terrible TIC DOULEUREUX Mrs. W. J. Evans, Arkona, Ont~ ario, found T-R-C's wonderful-- a source of safe, speedy Telief. Hereare the actual facts: Tic Douleureux. Terrible pain just like a knife running through the fleh from her temple down cheek to chin. Took various treat. ments. All right at first. No use finally. Heard about T-R-C's. Got a box--*After 2 or 3 doses," she says, "1 felt relief. 1 finished the and have no return since." T-R-C's are equally good for: RHEUMATISM - SCIATICA NEURALGIA LUMBAGO NEURITIS Quick--and absolutely safe. No harmful drugs. 50c and $1 at » your druggist's. 109 T-R-C* WF er | counsel, to any executor or member of the family. It was obivous that only Henry would have the knowl- edge contained in that and similar letters. Hoping Against Hope 'Henry also wrote Mr. Wilson, soli- citor for the executors, saying: "I am hoping against hope 1 can be freed from worry, and think of him as he always was in life." Later, continued Mr. Dodson, Henry adopted a stronger tone, and wrote to Mr, Sparke's nephew, Mr, Jerthon Sparke. During Mr, Sparke's life time Henry sometimes referred to him as "papa," and the letter said ;-- "I will never believe 'papa' intend- ed me to be left with only £10,000, and I believe there is a terrible mis- take somewhere, for he told me there was a packet in the library for me. It is no pleasure for me to take this step. I would rather do anything clse, but I am helpless, My life and carcer have been ruined," A ycar after Mr. Si e's death, Henry wrote that he had discovered "a draft" will screwed up in the cor- ner of a dispatch box used by Mr Sparke with some old pipe cleaners, The will was addressed from the nursing home, but the person who forged it dated it April 3, the day before Mr, Sparke went into the home. This will left every penny piece to Henry, Nobody with the training and ex- perience of a solicitor, which Mr Sparke had, could have drafted such a document. It was put forward, alleged Mr. Dodson, with the sole object of extorting money from the exccuters. Nursing Home" Visit There could be little doubt, added Mr. Dodson, that even before Mr. Sparkc's death Henry was moving Heaven and carth to obtain the' bulk if not the whole of the estate. The will was signed by two wit- nesses--Henry's sister, a Mrs, Piz- zeri, and Mrs. Barker, a friend. These two women did visit the and what happened these two wo-1 men alone knew, It might be that Mr. Sparke was approached at the instance of Henry, and in order to appease them he wrote out somec- thing which he afterwards destroyed, The explanation given by Henry made the matter suspicious to a high degree. He said that in December, 18 months after Mr, Sparke's death, he heard his sister and a Mrs, Bark- er conversing, and that made him embark on a last despairing voyage of discovery. In pocket of the suit worn by Mr. Sparke, and taken from the nursing home, he found the will in an envel- ope. The document was repudiated at once, "The result of this was that Henry had the foolhardiness to commence a probate action to prove this forged document." Eventually Henry applied for leave to discontinue the action, but this was refused. These proceedings fol- lowed. The hearing was adjourned, bail in one surety of £300 and his own re- cognizance of £400 being accepted. 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