[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] LOVERS THREE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 3809, 21 April 1913, Page 3

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] LOVERS THREE.

• <BY ARTHUR APPLIN (Author ©f "Robert Aiks’ Wife,” "The Stolen Heiress,” "The Chorus Girl,” Etc.).

“You don’t suspect Sin?” Tho question camo with unexepcted swiftness out of the silence. Phyllis drew a chair' up to the bureau and lent cross it. “I suspect no one. And, I’m perfectly certain, Mr Sin is no more a thief than you or I. He would be' incapable of a mean or dishonest action.” A subtle, untranslatable smile hovered about the corners of Gate’s lips. “You seem very certain of Sin’s character after a comparatively short acquaintanceship, don’t you.” “You don’t know how long we’ve been acquainted or how long we’ve known one another. Accident and fate 1 have combined together to make me something of a Bohemian, and in Bohemia people quickly get below the surface and become friends or enemies. Mr Sin was my nearest neighbor for some time.” “Altogether a desirable one, do you think.” “Yes, quite a desirable one,”' Phyllis replied hotly j “perhaps more desirable than anyone else in that silly little sleepy village of Pinner. I won’t hear a word against Mr Sin. He may bo exceedingly impulsive—ofcourse his accusation against Mr Hertford was unwarrantable—but,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but if you begin to suspect Mr Sin you may as well begin to suspect me.” She gave a little laugh, and rising, walked across the room towards the window. Daylight was fading, the sky was overcast with clouds, and the sun, sinking towards the west, was hidden. “How do you know I don’t suspect you?” The tone of Gate’s voice never changed. He appeared to put the question quite seriously. Phyllis evinced neither surprise nor resentment. “I thought you had a sense of humshe said quietly. “Don’t forget, Mr Gate, that I employed you to try and find,the diamond pendant I had lost—that and nothin gmore. But this morning I made up my mind that it would be useless for you to pursue your investigations. I told you when first we met that unless the pendant • was found at once it would be practically useless to search for it.. You have done your best I’m,sure, but you haven’t found it. So I don’t think I shall require your services any more. Can you tell me what my indebtedness to you is?” Her voice and bearing had changed towards Peter Gate. For the last,, : few days she had treated him rather 1 as a friend than as a professional . man. There had been a sense of sympathy and understanding between 1 them." But now she spoke formally, * coldly ; a barrier rose up in front of her. < Not altogether intentionally Peter < Gate .had, during the interview, play- - ed the part of the famous detective — brusque and business-like, he had scarcely a trace of humanity in him. 1 Gate could not prevent himself being mechanical, even to the woman i he loved. And at that moment he i thought of Sin, and with his whole 1 heart envied him. There was no barrier Sin could or would not break down to reach the woman ho loved or 1 to save her. 1 He rose from his seat. Although t he heard what Phyllis said, he did not believe she was in earnest. She was f just piqued and angi'y with him. r “My dear lady, don’t be foolish. ; I’m not suspecting anybody—behind 1 your back. I’m merely expressing 1 my thoughts and feelings, perhaps ( That I may read yours. As for Mr 3 in—well, do you think I should employ t a man I suspected?” t Phyllis was standing with her back a to the window. The light from the r lamp cast a red glow’ across her body, nd the fading daylight silhouetted her f figure. he stood with an easy grace, j her whole attitude expressing dignity. € Gate moved tow’ards her, then stop- t ped. he was unapproachable; and he ] ( knew’ she had neiter spoken in jest nor in anger. She was serious. c His admiration for her was re- j doubled. In a sense he felt she was a defying him, and he loved her for it. a “You wish to take tho case out of my hands?” “Yes.” t “May I ask the reasons?” f She gave a little shrug of the shoid- v ders. “I’ve told them to you—my ]] diamond pendant has not been found. e The crisis of which I warned you has q come.” Peter Gate took a step back. Busi- j, ness was business, but this was love. t ’ The man in him laid hands on the jj machine, and it stopped working. He no longer spoko mechanically Ox j thought mechanically. He was con- t scious of blood in his veins and a heart in his breast. He himself w’as almost a frightened of the swift change. But habit still had him by the throat. To t save or destroy—one never can toll. “The crisis!” he echoed. “You t mean that Lord Richard Egglington a refuses to wait any longer for—for e answer?” , Again a little shrug of the shoulders. It expressed contempt now for him. “I told you my position at the time. Not altogether a nice position for a woman.” j Peter Gate was holding himself in a vice. “It’s really a question of g money,” he said, with forced calm. “He is using your indebtedness to him as a lever—forcing you to marry him t against-your will ?” ] < Phyllis picked up her muff and sabretasche bag and moved towards the a door. “Since you can’t tell me wljat j I owe, perhaps you will send on your j ( account. Good day.” </ s Gate planted himself in front of j her. He was frightened now’, yet he had no idea what he feared. He felt that if he let Phyllis Carlyle go he would never see her again. He knew when first she entered his office that something unexpected had happened to upset her. He had suspected Robert Hertford; now ho realised it was, as far .as he was concerned, a more dangerous man—Egglington. “You can’t go until you’vo told me what - hs happened and what you’re goiu gto do,” he cried. There was nothing mechanical in his voice now. I

It was fierce, almost passionate. He saw a gleam of surprise in Phyllis Oarlvle’s* eyes, which quickly gave place to indignation. “By what right do you question me ? By what right do you detain me?” Peter Gate was struggling with habits, conventions, prejudices. And while ho did so the machine came to the rescue of the man, and ho blurted out the truth like a prize-fighter giving the coup de grace to an opponent. “Because I love you!” How it happened he did not know, but Gate was caught in his own net. He was standing right underneath' the hanging lamp, and the light poured down on his face. But he stood his ground and held his head erect, and looked straight at Phyllis. Suddenly the telephone bell began to ring spasmodically. It ws ringing from his clerks ’office. He tried to take no notice of it, but Peter Gate the detective kept warning Peter Gate the man that something unusual must have happened outside. The rule was one short, sharp ring, and nothing more, until he answered. Again it rang, stopped, then gave a long noisy jangle. Ho found himself seated befbre the bureau, holding the receiver to his ear. “What is it?” A confusion of voices. Then his confidential clerk’s voice. “I’m exceedingly sorry, sir, this gentleman—- —” A buzzing in his ear, then Sin’s voice:— “Must see you, Gate. Important. I want ” Peter Gate hung up the receiver and touched one of the buttons on the bureau. He looked appealingly at Phyllis. “Don’t go!” The door opened, and his clerk entered, but before he could speak Sin hurtled into the room. Gate signalled to the clerk and the door closed. “I’m sorry,” Sin panted. “Confound it, Gate, one would think you were the greatest criminal unhung the way you’re locked up and guarded. Women too— one can’t fight them.” Then he becamo conscious of Phyllis Carlyle. “Forgive me. I didn’t see you.” He stepped to her side, and taking one of her hands kissed it. “A thousand apologies—just let mo have a word with Gate—shant’ keep him a moment.” He leant over the bureau, resting his hands upon it. “Give me five pounds, Gate, quickly. Don’t ask for explanations. Trust me. It’s something big. Only bo quick, or I shall lose it.” Gate was not looking at Sin—his eyes were still on Phyllis. Stooping down, lie unlocked a drawer, took out a small cash box, opened it and threw a handful of sovereigns at Sin. “Are you running away?” Sin was pocketing the money. Something in Gate’s voice startled him. Before the latter could realise what he was doing, Sin struck a match, and, holding it above Gate’s head, he stared into his eyes. Then he gave a quick glance at Phyllis. Ho said nothing, but he moved slowly towards the door. Then ho hesitated, standing with his back to Phyllis and Peter Gate. Once again the bell jangled. “Yes?” Peter Gate’s voice hammered into the telephone. “Tell him to wait.-Put him in room No. 2. Don’t let him go until I’ve seen him.” He hung up the receiver and looked towards Sin. “Bulmer is here!” Sin laughed. “Keep him out of the way until I return ; then he can arrest me. I know what’s happen-' ed, Gate.” v “Where?” “Here. It’s all right, but you haven’t wasted any time, have you.” “Get out.” “I think I’d like Mr. Sin to stay.” It was Phyllis who spoke. ‘fl’ll come back,” Sin replied. He swu\ig round, and again took Phyllis’s hand and again pressed it to his lips. “I—l know what’s happened. What’s the use of hiding from tho truth? I know you’re not the sort of woman to fear it. Besides, you must have seen and guessed that I loved you, too. But I’m not going to worry you to fall in love with mo or marry me, or any nonsense of that sort. I just love you. I can’t help if, and it needn’t worry you. And I shall be back in about ten minutes if you want mo!” CHAPTER XXII. BULMER PRODUCES THE PENDANT. For a moment Peter Gate thought Phyllis was going to break down/

There were tears in her eyes, and her body was shaken with emotion. He would have welcomed tears, for that exhibition of womanly weakness would have increased his strength, and put him at his ease. But she forced them back. She waited a little while as if expecting some explanation from Gate. But he held his tongue; ho did not dare to speak. As Sin shut the door of liis room there was murder in his heart, for he felt the latter, by his insane confession, had ruined everything. Ho realised the awkward position in which Miss Carlyle was placed. Sire, little more than a girl, was wiser than he, however. “How did Mr Sin discover your secret?” Gate swallowed hastily. His hands wore gripping the sides of the bureau. The question was unexpected. Unexpected, ttoo, was a certain note of tenderness in her voice. “I don’t know. I think ho knew before I did myself. He has uncanny power of reading one’s most secret thoughts. Perhaps you’ve noticed it.” Gate was afraid of the silence now. Phyllis nodded. “Yes, I have noticed it.” Gate stole a glance at her, and then ho touched the switch by his side and lowered "the light. She was still standing with her back to the window. The shadows emphasised the clean lines of her figure, and the brilliance of her hair. “I suppose there’s no more to he said,” she continued. “I’m sorry if I’ve unconsciously done anything to hurt you, but I didn’t know —I didn’t dream you cared for me.” “Of course not —women never do.” There was a touch of sarcasm in Gate’s voice; it was becoming slightly metallic again. He commenced to hammer out his sentences, as if trying to drive each word home. He realised the fight had begun in real earnest —Cho fight to win this woman. Sin hardly counted. Indeed, he looked upon him now as a possible ally. At present it was Egglington and Bulmer who mattered—the one striving against her love, the other against her honor. isn’t a case of just caring for you,” ho continued. “And now I’ve blurted out half the truth, you’d better have the whole. I love you, and I’ve never loved before. It's no sudden whim or sentimental fancy; it’s perhaps the biggest thing in my life.” Phyllis smiled, and ho wondered why. He did not realise that all unconsciously he was sheltering himself behind that little word perhaps. “I’m sorry,” she said again. lie leapt to his feet. The tone of her voice, more than the two simple words, sent a chill to his heart. “It isn’t your faul ” He stopped with a slight oath; he was saying the trite conventional thing again. He was apologising for having fallen in love with her, ashamed of his emotions, while, Sin gloried in his'. Was it, he wondered, because Sin’s love was the essence of self-sacrifice and that therefore it needed no apology; that instead of feeling afraid or ashamed ho gloried and iriumphed in it? “I didn't mean to tell you yet,” Gate continued, “so please don 1 1 let what I’ve said make any difference to us. Only let me still help you and work for you. You can’t prevent me, because henceforth I intend to live for you.” Withdrawing one of her long white gloves, she held out her hand to him. He took it eagerly, and held it in both of his. “It’s too late,” site said softly. “No one can do anything now. The die. i.s cast. It’s useless to fight against fate.” Ssio tried to withdraw her hand, but he would not let it go. Tho touch of those long, soft, sensitive fingers, tho subtle perfume, tho close contact', thrilled and emotionalised him. “It’s not .too late. It’s never too late to fight. I don’t want to know whether you love me yet. Of course it’s too soon to ask. I just want to serve you' so that I can save you from this man Egglington, whom I know you don’t love. I want to clear up tho mystery surrounding the loss of your diamond pendant and the disappearance of Aaron Ichbert. Whon I’ve done that it’ll bo time enough to talk of love.” (To bo continued to-morrow.}