Evening Star Newspaper, September 6, 1931, Page 56

i ' or dreaming, Peter wondered. Francis Thayef A Bomantic Ad- venture With a Mysterious Lady. HERE was no coubt about it. She was coming streight toward him across the hotcl lobby. Her eyes were on his. The red lips were curved in a smil2 so ious that Peter Sargent unconsciously smiled back. He remembered once at the movies, watch- ing an express train roar head on toward " " him. He knew that it woull veer off just be- b { it crushed him, but the suspense was unbearable Now he folt th: same breathless tension; not from any synthetic fear, for the girl in brown was as enchanting as the engine had been terrifying: but she, too, would veer off as soon as she . “Hello, darling!” He rose and in a daze took the two small hands that were - stretched toward him so eagerly. “Aren’t you glad to see me? late? Are you mad?” Peter pulled himself together with a superb effort. Then he grinned. “You are just’— pulling out his watch—"22 minutes late. But I'm not mad. In I am unreasonably happy just to see you.” “It's been such ages, darling.” ® lttle sad at the thought. “Much too long,” he agreed solemnly. “And you've been horrid about wriiing the last few weeks!” “I'm sorry, dear.” @y don't care. In two weeks we'll be to- gether forever, and there won't be such things as letters. Wait here a moment. I've got to +» speak to the man at the desk, and then we'll plan what to do next. I'll only be a second.” She smiled at him confidently and fled aeross - the lobby. WeM plan what to dc next! Was he mad Ages since they - had seen each other. Hadn't been writing to ‘her. And in two wecks they'd be together for- ever! Must be getting married. Well, it might b® worse. She was pretty enough to marry, with those deep blue eyes shining through long lashes. Perhaps she might not make him a good wife, though. He couldn’t tell. He'd never set eyes on her before. What the deuce was this? Mistaken for some one else? Ridiculous! One didn't make . such mistakes about people one ealled “darling” and planned to marry in a fortnight. Some “con” game or racket? Blackmail probably. Was she crazy? Or maybe she had pulled it on & bet. In which case she wouldn’t return. She was just about young enough to make such a bet? He'd wait 10—— There she was again'! As she came toward him he studied her care- fully; slender ankles, a brown coat with a great fur collar framing her oval face, an orange and brown beret. Not too tall, and she moved with an unhurried yet swift grace. A piquant, full mouth above a firm chin, a small nose with a bit of a tilt, thin regular eyebrows and a dark widow’s peak just peeping from under her beret. He was conscious of a faint fragranee of flowers as she came near. *Let’'s go over there and sit down on the sofa. Are you going to take me to the theater? If so, we haven't time to go upstairs now?” They crossed to a deep davenport and sank down close together. The girl nestled her hand in his. “Oh, dearest, you don't know how happy I am, and I don't think I've ever been so ex- cited!” she cried softly. There was a pause and then she looked up. “A show? Have you got tickets?” “No, I thought I'd know better what you would want to see after I met you.” “Something gay, please. A revue.” He glanced at his watch. “Your being so Am I terribly Her eyes were . :Jate, dear, hasn't left us a great deal of time. T've got to get some tickets and go home and < diress.” ¢ She dropped his hand and sprang up. “AWl right. Hurry back. Come "right up to my room. I've a suite, so they won't mind. “At seven.” A smile flashed, and she was gome. Peter looked after her th’oug;:tfufly. It’_vnould 1011y 3. TN 193 1A 32L035¢ SHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 6, 1931. Peter moved forward. “Good morning, Lois” The color drained from her face. help if he knew her name. A lady without a name might be hard to find and, under ~ertain circumstances, after you found her might be difficult to explain. 11 [CIGHT,” Peter announced casually as he sauntered into the elevaior an hour and a half later. It had been a bit breath-taking, that hour and a half. You did not find second-row seats for the most popular reyue in town at 5:30 :n the afternoon; you hunted them. And a pre- vious date had to be broken. Such delays made it necessary to bribe taxi drivers into sceing red lights as green. His bath had been shock- ingly hurried. The one lucky break had been Stone’s uncanny insight in having the tails laid out instead of a dinner jacket. Then flowers had been a problem, without a clue as to what 862 planned to wear. And, lest but not least, getting the gardenias delivered in a reasonabie way to a nameless lady! Here he was—882. He knocked with his stick. “Wait & moment! Who is it?” The voice was muffied, evidently from an inner room. Peter deliberated. “It's—me.” “Oh, darling. I'm late. and I thought you would be, t0o.” The voice was by the deor now. The key turned in the lock, and there was a scurrying noise. When he opened the door she had fled into the bed room. “Tll be out in three minutes.” He looked around swiftly. Obviously one of the best apartments in the hotel. There were several magazines and a French novel on the table. A silver fox flung care'essly over a chair. Crossing to the table he opened the book. No name there. He shrugged his shoulders, put his top hat on the table, dropped his coat over a chair and lit a cigarette. “VYferen’t you sweet to remember that I adore gardenias?” she called from the bed room. “Uncannily.” “The only trouble is that there’s no place on this dress to pin them. Here I am. Do you like my dress?” He turned and found her framed in the doorway. Peter had just time to note that she was wearing an exotically flowered red velvet gown, hung low from narrow shoulder straps, before she flew across the room flung her cool bare arms about his neck, and lifted her mouih near to his. Without the slightest hesitation he took her in his arms and kissed her breath- lessly. & ‘ Oh, darling, that's better!” she cried finally. “What a horrible place to meet you first, down in the lobby.” “Yes. Badly managed. Without exczption you are the most gorgeous thing I've ever looked at. Is that gown part of your—our— trousseau?” “Yes, but I had to wear it tonight. Mother would never forgive me if she knew. Don't ever tell her, Peter.” “I won’t. But how th’ dewce—-" He hesi- tated. “What's the matter, darling?” “Nething,” he replied. “You're marvelous.” “Gupad. You know, I was just thinking that the pleasantest things about marrying that I shail be called ‘Mrs. Peter Sar- So much nicer name than mine.” Twe regarded her blankly. This was getting could be sure whether was imagining it. Don’t you honestly think so, yours:1f?” Peter looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know. I never thought of it before,” he said s T 5 o'clock the next morning the most be- fuddled man awake in New Yotk was walking up Madison avenue. Peter had not been drinking, but he had discovered that two and two no longer made five, and that was appalling. Perhaps he ought to go back and teli the cop he had just passed all about it. He grinnod. Officer, I want to report that our city is in danger. A beautiful and fascinating girl has escaped from a lunatic asylum and is loose among us. How will you spot her. Look for a dark-haired siren with a caressing voice, who dances as no woman ever has. And lock her up, because -she’s mad. She picks me up _cold in the lobby of the Carlton, and from that moment either pretends or thinks we are abot to be married, acting her part fully, I must say, without restraint. It's not only dinner and the theater, Officer, but a night club, then Child’s. Purthermore, I seem to be meeting her for luncheon today. In some strange way she divined my name. No, I dom’t know her name or where she lives when she’s at home. You see, I bave to humor her and pretend I've known her for a long time, and that I, too, think we are engaged. All I can tell you is her room number at the Carlton, that she seems to be rich as Hetty Green, that she hides her insanity under a cloak of amazing intelligence, and that I'm crazy aBout her, whoever she is. 11] LOVE alligator pears,” she said reflectively, laying down her fork. ‘“Coffee, please, and periaps some Camembert.” They were side by side at a table against the wall. Today she wore gardenias against the shoulder of her tailored sharkskin suit. “What are we going to do this afternoon, Peter?” The question went unanswered for a few moments. Peter was beginning to be troubled by certain elements of this affair. For as he had found her waiting for him fn her apart- ment, it had come over him suddenly that the girl was just as fascinating and desirable at high noon as she was at midnight. and that the uncertainty of things, although exciting, was ~ far from satisfactory He had been tempted to bribe a bellboy to find out her name, but had realized that the Jame regis- tered prcbably meant nothing, and that com- plications might ensue. He'd always heard it was dangerous to wake a sleepwalker, and the fear of ending this enchanting dream kept him from demanding an explanation from her. Her attitude toward him was frankly one of warm affection, and quite naturally he played up to her in the weird comedy; he made love to her: they talked about the wedding trip (which Peter discov- ered was to be spent on the Riviera); they planned the apartment in the East Seventies, which they would find as soon as they got back to New York. And to his delight he found that they had much in commen. They had read many of the same current books. She knew her way about in modern art. An%, sicthough it was plain she did not live in New York, she seemed up on everything that was going on. They agreed about this and disagreed about that, but they spoke’the same language. witn apparent unconsciousness on her part, delib- erately on his, however, they avoided' topics which might become difficult. But tbis mys- tery was becoming much too fentastie for one who was beginning to wonder set »wfy whether he did not want the dream turne¢ mrc reality. “What are we going to do?” she svpe=ated. “Tomorrow, T thought we migin eo Eying” “Oh, perfect! Who'd take us? “I thought I might,” he mvresswe “uniess you've' gone nervous on me:” She flushed. “Don‘t be silly.” “put were asking sboyt this, afternoom: , prag 1raen of a3 ol METER RIS & "o =) H Well, it's a gorgeous Spring day. Let’s walk up Fifth avenue, perhaps drop into some pic- ture gallery on Fifty-seventh street for a few minutes, and then into the Park. What do you say?” “Satisfactory, Peter. Shall we start?” “I'll have to leave you for an hour at 5, dear.” “Why?” - “To meet Arthur Boll for tea and sign a contract for my next novel. Did I write you I was ehanging publishers?” He could see that he had surprised her for the second time in three minutes, and she hesi- tated a fraction of a second. “No, you didn’t. But I'm glad. They were such a stuffy lot.” Peter ecouldn’t help grinning. “Darling, I've heard of Boll for years as the most famous prblisher in New York. Couldn’t I come?” He looked at her aghast, as he realized what he was propesing. “It might be difficult,” he protested. “Why? I wouldn't say a word, just drink tea while you signed contract after centract.” Her voice was calm and reassuring. “I promise I'll make you glad you took me. I'm coming anyway. And on the way, let's drop into a book stere and get a copy of your last novel, I'd love the experierce of buying it from the clerk with you there and not having him know who we are.” He shock his head in real bewilderment as he paid the check and rose. She was sailing too close to the wind. Something was going to jibe presently. But if he could get away with introdueing a nameless woman, perhaps Boll would unintentionally force a name out of her. Ten minutes later she was in a book shoo browsing over the table of fiction. “I don't see it here, Peter,” she complained. “Probably not.” He wouldn't help her. Let her find it lgrself. She deserved it. She turned to a clerk who was passing. “I want a copy of Peter Sargent’s last novel.” The man looked at her carefully. “ ‘Follow the Leader’'? " a moment, please.” From a lower shelf, almost hidden, he pulled out ®. book with a gay jacket. _&Why do you hide # away like that?"” “A‘Well, you see, we have to be careful. It's becn banned, and we're not supposed*to sell it.” Peter saw her dash a handkerchief to her mouth in a vain attempt to conceal her sudden laughter. Silently he paid for the book, com- pletely ignoring her gleeful mirth as they waited for the package. “Oh, darling, let'’s get out of here quickly or I'll burst. This is too perfect. You, the author of a banned beok!” As they turned into the Avenue a minute later, “I'll marry you just the same, Peter. Oh, look, isn't that lovely?” She stopped before a jeweler's window. He regarded her thoughtfully. Well, why not? He could stand it, and the situation certainly called for something of the kind. 'md how would she react? “There’s & bracelet I noticed the other day in. Beckwith’s window, very much the same stones, but a bstter design. Let's cross the street and see if it’s still there.” It wasn't in the window, but he suggested they go in and ask to see it. An' expression of delight came over her face as she examined the exquisite trinket. “Put it on.” Half hesitating, she held out her hand and the suave gentleman in bieck clasped the cool, listening stones about her arm. “It fits, doesn’t it?” She was completely absorbed in the bracelet and did not reply. “We'll take that"mh us,” Peter anneunced PRTR T s v se o3 8 90 & 30 JLea