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THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE


5


THE FUGITIVE
MILLIONAIRE
BY
ANTHONY CARLYLE

AUTHOR OF "GRAINS OF DUST" AND "THB HOOFSLIDE"
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
tEbe fcfoewtbe press Cam&rftgt
1932


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COPYRIGHT, IQ22, BV THE CROWKLL PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
THIS BOOK IS PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND UNDER THE TITLE OP
"THE TAVERN AND THE ARROWS"
PROPER^
OF THE
NSW YORK
SOCIETY UK"-Y
Cfjt aiDtreibe $««»
CAMBRIDGE • MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
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THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
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THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
CHAPTER I
"You 'll have to marry, Lee! There is
absolutely nothing else for it!"
Mrs. Dorice stirred among her piled-up
cushions, dropped her cigarette ash untidily
onto the carpet, and pushed a pile of bills pet-
ulantly off her knees.
Her small, fair, rather exquisitely tinted
face was clouded, her clear, carefully modu-
lated but hard voice was querulous. She
looked across at the slim, straight, white-clad
figure at the window at once speculatively
and with annoyance. She found her step-
daughter annoying more often than not; and
she was never wholly at her ease with her.
There was something about Lee's power of
listening to a conversation or argument in
complete silence which was discomfiting as
well as irritating. Moreover, she found it
quite impossible to fathom the working of the


2 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
girl's mind behind her long, grey, black-lashed
eyes. Outwardly, at any rate, Lee Dorice was
never ruffled, angry, or dismayed. She ac-
cepted pleasant or unpleasant things with the
same expressionless calm.
Men found her difficult to get on with,
though decidedly intriguing and attractive.
Women—for the most part—avoided her.
They did not understand her any more than
her stepmother understood her. There was
an aloofness about her supreme indifference
to the ordinary pettinesses of everyday exis-
tence which they openly deplored, and envied
in secret. It gave her an air of distinction
which singled her out for notice wherever she
might go, and made her completely different
from other girls.
Beyond this there was nothing very remark-
able about her. Her beauty was of the kind
that makes itself felt slowly, rather than at
once. She was pale, extremely slender, boy-
ishly graceful. Her eyes were grave, stead-
fast, and clear. The blackness of her lashes
made them seem much darker than they were
in reality. Her features were good, not
strictly regular, and the vividly red mouth
was perfect. She carried herself superbly,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 3
and dressed with a shrewd good judgment
and taste which made even well and expen-
sively dressed women regard her wistfully.
There was nothing " fluffy " about her. She
wore her hair smoothly and neatly knotted at
the back of her small head, and only a few of
her acquaintances knew that it was long
enough and thick enough to cover her like a
cloak to her knees. It was black with a den-
sity seldom seen in the hair of any but Oriental
women, or a rare type of Irish, and it made the
whiteness of her skin dazzling.
She stood now with her hands resting
lightly on the window-sill, her eyes upon the
distant sea. A faint haze slightly obscured the
sun, and softened the rather rugged, rocky
coast-line. Through the mist, seemingly very
far away, loomed a high grey shape, like a
huge hillock. Lee's rather sombre gaze
shifted slowly to it, and grew momentarily
intent. But she did not answer Mrs. Dorice,
and after a moment that lady spoke again,
with some asperity.
"Are you listening, Lee?"
Lee nodded.
"Oh, yes," she returned quietly—" I 'm
listening."


4 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
She changed her position slightly, leaning
a shoulder against the window-frame and tilt-
ing her head back.
Mrs. Dorice frowned, then sighed exasper-
atedly.
"You are quite the most impossible person!
Almost as bad as your poor dear father was!"
Lee stirred, and her black brows met for an
instant, but she made no comment. Only into
the wide eyes there crept a great wistfulness,
a great regret. Her father had been very dear
to her, her constant companion and friend,
her only intimate. Life at his side had been
well worth living, if not prolific of luxuries,
until his utterly unexpected and mistaken
marriage to Teresa Ford, an appealing and
more than pretty widow of thirty, possessed
of an overgrown, lanky, and wilful daughter
of twelve.
This had happened five years ago, when
Lee was not quite nineteen. Mrs. Ford, having
contracted a ridiculously early marriage with
a penniless boy not many years her senior,
had regretted it and her lost opportunities
ever since. She had welcomed the advent of
her child with resignation and the subsequent
decease of its father with relief. She was


6 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Dorice confessed, sheepishly, to his bewildered
daughter that he had not the faintest idea of
how the thing had happened. He seemed
scarcely to remember proposing. Certainly
he was neither infatuated nor in love with
Teresa.
But she led him triumphantly to the altar,
and only when it was too late discovered that,
far from being a man of means, he was pos-
sessed of an income which had made existence
for two merely comfortable.
The blow had been severe, but she had
comforted herself with the reflection that as
Mrs. Dorice she had a higher social standing
than a richer man might have given her, could
move among people of position and a certain
importance, while her active mind dwelt
secretly upon the bare possibility of Tom Dor-
ice stepping, romantically, into his distant and
titled cousin's shoes.
This, however, had not happened. The dis-
tant cousin was also struck with the idea of
matrimony, and within course of time rejoiced
in the possession of a sturdy heir. This fur-
ther blow had almost embittered Teresa; and
then, while she was yet sombrely reflecting
upon it, Tom Dorice had been brought back


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 7
to her from the hunting field one morning with
his back broken.
He had died with Lee's hand in his, smiling
at her steadfastly, but without speaking. He
had not much to leave, sufficient perhaps to
bring in an income of a bare five hundred a
year; and that, in a moment of mental aber-
ration, and fancying that he was doing the
right thing, he had left, in a hastily made but
perfectly valid will, to his second wife.
He had meant no neglect of his daughter
—that daughter who looked at him with his
first wife's eyes and smiled with her smile.
Yet he had made her, by a stroke of his care-
less pen, utterly and completely dependent
upon the woman who had usurped her
mother's place.
The girl had uttered no protest; had shown
nothing of what she felt. She had known her
father so well, and in her every thought of
him there was an indulgent tenderness rather
than hurt or resentment.
But she felt her position keenly, the more
so as Mrs. Dorice, while a little afraid of her,
was not the sort of woman to allow her to
forget it even for a moment.
Lee felt herself an encumbrance, and found


8 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
it increasingly intolerable. At the same time
it was impossible to break free. She was well-
bred, cultured, charming, but she had few
accomplishments that were of a marketable
value. It had never been Tom Dorice's inten-
tion that she should work for a living; she
realised herself, dismayedly, that she was
incapable of doing so.
She roused from her sombre memories at
Mrs. Dorice's next words.
"Anyway, things can't go on much longer
like this! It 's bad enough to have the ex-
pense of bringing up Terry, and dressing her,
but with you on my hands as well I 'm nearly
at my wit's end! If you were n't quite so
standoffish, Lee, you 'd be a good deal more
attractive to men, let me tell you that. You
've looks, of course "—the concession was
so grudging that Lee unexpectedly smiled—
"but looks are n't much good without a little
animation."
Lee shrugged.
"I 'm not aware," she observed drily,
"that—just lately—we 've met any men
worth attracting! One can't look upon sea-
side acquaintances as prospective husbands,
you know!"


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 9
"I don't know anything of the sort!" Te-
resa's voice was sharp. "I 've found that
one meets really nice people at the seaside.
But of course you give yourself such airs!"
Lee laughed rather sadly, but she made no
comment. Her eyes were still upon the un-
gainly, indistinct bulk looming through the
mist, her lips pressing so firmly together that
her whole pale face looked unnaturally hard.
Teresa Dorice recovered her bills, and
viciously flung her half-smoked cigarette into
the empty hearth.
"As to meeting people," she proceeded,
"we won't be here much longer. I 'm tired
of it; it 's too dull and too expensive. I 've
decided to go back to town at the end of the
week."
Lee straightened herself, and turned slowly
into the room.
"I 'm going to-morrow," she announced.
"I had a letter from Patty Clay asking me to
join her there and go on with her for a fort-
night to her place in Surrey. I accepted—
chiefly because I thought it would be a relief
to you to have me off your hands if only for a
couple of weeks!"
There was no bitterness in her voice; never-


10 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
theless Mrs. Dorice stirred uncomfortably.
Again her voice was sharp when she answered.
"You can't blame me if it is!" she point-
ed out. "Things are getting more impossible
every day. I hardly know where to turn.
One can't live suitably on what I 've got,
and keep two girls as well. And Terry 's
growing up. She 's seventeen—"
She checked herself, and flushed.
As a rule she was careful to avoid any men-
tion of her daughter's age, and generally
spoke of her as "my little girl." Secretly
she rejoiced that a very curly, rather close-
cropped nutbrown head, an affection for very
short skirts, and a decidedly diminutive stat-
ure made Terry appear a full two years
younger than she was.
She encouraged a display of long black-
stockinged legs, and a liking for rather child-
ish amusements; smiled indulgently at a
somewhat slipshod manner of speaking, inter-
spersed with slang, and was often heard to
quote, in soft admonishment, that " little girls
should be seen, and not heard!"
Terry was quite well aware of her motives,
and grinned impishly at them. She was, per-
sonally, quite content with the arrangement.
N


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 11
She had a lot of freedom, and used it as she
chose. Her feeling towards her mother was
tolerantly contemptuous rather than affec-
tionate; she avoided her company as much as
possible, and for the most part completely
ignored her authority.
She enjoyed herself thoroughly, and ac-
cepted her childish role amusedly. She was
in no haste to grow up.
Lee, thinking of her, frowned. She was
more than a little fond of Terry, and regretted
her upbringing. She looked now at Mrs.
Dorice.
"I know," she said. " And she '11 soon have
to stop running wild like this, of course.
Oh, I assure you, Teresa, I 'm by no means
blind to the fact that I am not only not
wanted, but very much in the way. I am in
your way now—in a little while I shall be in
Terry's! Believe me, the position is as gall-
ing for me as it is annoying for you. But
I 'm quite helpless to alter it. I was n't, un-
fortunately, brought up to be useful! And
father never meant me to be dependent."
Mrs. Dorice sat up quickly. A little angry
flush ran up over her fair skin; her big, pansy
eyes began to sparkle.


12 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"Are you," she demanded, " trying to in-
sinuate that your father was influenced in his
disposal of his property? That—"
"I am insinuating nothing," Lee interrupt-
ed. "I am merely stating a fact. He did not
realise what he was doing when he left every-
thing to you, otherwise he would not have
done it. He would not have been so unjust.
You see "—her voice seemed to catch for an
instant—" it was n't as if his health was not
of the best. He expected to live so much
longer, and I suppose "—there was a sudden
bitterness in her tone—" that he, too, expect-
ed I should be provided for long before his
death. As it is—"
"As it is," Mrs. Dorice was wrought up
enough to declare, " you 're most ungrateful,
and positively insulting at times. Really, Lee,
I find it more difficult to get on with you every
day!"
Lee did not answer. She crossed the room,
picked up a thick white sports coat, and a
close-fitting hat, and proceeded to put them
on. Her face was expressionless, but a close
observer would have seen that her eyes were
very dark, as if with anger, and that her
hands trembled a little.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 13
At the door she glanced back.
"I 'm going for a row," she said levelly.
"I shan't be back to tea, and something
cold for supper will do when I come in."
She laid her hand on the knob, but paused
as Mrs. Dorice gave a little exclamation.
"Really, Lee! You were telling me about
going to Patty Clay's to-morrow, and if you
leave early I shall certainly not see you before
you start. I suppose you '11 join us after-
wards in town?"
Lee lifted her brows.
"I suppose so. Unless you change your
mind and don't go back! But I '11 write you,
anyway."
Mrs. Dorice drummed her fingers on the
arm of her chair.
"I suppose," she suggested tentatively,
"you could n't take Terry? She is always
so much wilder when you 're not about, and
besides she gets on my nerves. She—"
"Patty Clay does n't know Terry," Lee
interrupted uncompromisingly, "and, any-
way, she is n't fond of flappers."
Teresa's lips tightened, but she shrugged
resignedly.
"Ah, well. I suppose it's out of the ques-


14 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
tion. Anyway, you 're lucky to be going.
Patty always gives you a good time, does n't
she—and I suppose there '11 be a crowd of
interesting people there. Perhaps "—she
stopped drumming on the chair to look with
new eagerness at the girl—" you '11 meet
some men there who will be more congenial.
If so—"
She stopped. Lee met her eyes suddenly,
straightly. She spoke with a note in her voice
that Teresa had never heard in it before.
"My dear Teresa," she cried, " I '11 prom-
ise you this. The very first man; who asks
me to marry him, whoever he is, or whatever
he is—I '11 accept!"
-


CHAPTER II
UPON her way to the shore Lee came upon
Terry. She was the centre of a group of men
and girls, all of them chance acquaintances,
and was energetically sucking peppermints
while she talked.
She had been bathing, and was attired in a
limp linen skirt, and a striped jumper that
had seen much service. Feet and legs were
bare, her hair was still wet, and a couple of
Sodden bath-towels hung over her arm.
Terry was not yet at an age when appear-
ance meant very much to her. She disliked
intensely having to be careful of her clothes,
and Mrs. Dorice encouraged this attitude by
providing her only with the plainest of
apparel.
Oddly enough her lack of adornment lent
the girl attraction. She was thin to a degree,
and awkward as a young colt, and in conven-
tional garb she looked, as she herself cheer-
fully described it, a “freak.” The short skirt
and rough wool jumper suited her. She looked
nothing more than a child in it.


16 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Her face and arms and neck were burned
a uniform deep brown. Her eyes were brown
too—the red, warm, clear brown of an Irish
setter's. There was nothing of the pansy
softness of her mother's about them, but they
were large, and clear, and well-shaped, black-
lashed as Lee's own, and full of fire and
sparkle and expression.
Her features were well-formed, if scarcely
regular. Her mouth was wide and generous,
her nose rather short, the chin square and
very determined.
In character she was somewhat complex.
She was a creature of impulse, wayward,
headstrong, and inconsequent as a butterfly.
Warm-hearted and generous, she was quick-
tempered to a fault. She defied any person's
authority, save, sometimes, Lee's. She was
painfully outspoken, fiercely resentful of ridi-
cule, and passionately fond of animals. She
was fearless, strong, and as active as a little
wildcat, contemptuous of cowardice in any
form.
Impatient of restraint, she had gone her
own sweet way since babyhood. She was
shrewd and far-seeing as well as intelligent.
She read voraciously at such times as she was


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 17
forced to remain indoors; but she was never
quite happy unless she was in the open air.
She possessed a collection of animals which
amounted almost to a menagerie, and which
she insisted upon taking everywhere with her.
She shrugged at Mrs. Dorice's objections and
ignored other people's. Her affection for her
creatures was intense and deep-rooted.
She had acquired a nondescript, shaggy
beast, of such mixed ancestry that he was
beyond description from the half-drunken
brute who had owned him, for the price of his
licence and a pint of beer; she had found a
ribby, wistful-eyed terrier on the kerb one
night, and had been given a thoroughbred and
well-nigh perfect Pomeranian by a youthful
adorer who had surreptitiously purloined it
from his mother's prized kennel upon the
morning of the Dorices' departure from that
particular neighborhood.
They formed a constant bodyguard, each
equal in favour, in company with a one-eyed
cat of morose demeanour, and a canary which
had been sold to her by a persuasive and evil-
visaged proprietor of a dingy birdshop in Lam-
beth with the assurance that it was a male
bird with the promise of a glorious voice, and


18 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
which had protested against this misrepresen-
tation by laying an egg almost as soon as she
had got it home.
There was also a parrot who swore pictur-
esquely, a white rat, and a mongoose. Terry
earnestly hoped in course of time to add a
monkey to their ranks, while she found the
greatest happiness of her life in ministering
to their various wants.
To-day only the dogs accompanied her, the
mongrels bright-eyed and wet, the Pom fas-
tidiously avoiding their moist company and
shrilling indignation at the encroaching sea.
Terry silenced it with a well-aimed, playful
blow of a bare heel, and grinned at Lee.
"He 's nearly in hysterics," she explained,
meaning the Pom, " because I tried to make
him go in too. Have a peppermint? Where
are you off to, and what are you looking so
glum about?"
She investigated a sticky bag and thrust
another black ball between her lips, then link-
ing her damp arm in Lee's, nodded carelessly
to her companions, took the peppermint out
of her mouth to whistle the dogs piercingly,
and moved lightly on.
"Mother been nagging you again?" she
>


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 19
demanded, when they were alone; and
shrugged as the other replied only with a swift
gesture. She continued to suck noisily until
they reached the old fisherman from whom
Lee generally hired her boat. Then: "Going
out? Is n't it rather misty to-day?"
"It's only a haze," Lee returned. But the
old man interrupted:
"Likely it '11 turn to fog later, miss. If
you be set on goin' I 'd not stay long—
these fogs come sudden, and last a fairish
while. Maybe to-morrow 'd be a better
day—"
"But I shan't be here to-morrowl" Lee
told him, with that sudden rare smile of
hers. "And I want to go."
"Not here to-morrow?" Terry caught up
the words shrilly. Her eyes shadowed with a
faint apprehension.
Lee, watching the old man preparing the
tubby little boat, explained. The younger girl
made a sharp gesture.
"How perfectly rotten!" she exclaimed.
"I '11 miss you disgustingly!"
Lee laughed. She was quite aware of
Terry's affection for her, and returned it. The
girl was lovable, for all her faults, and when


20 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
she gave her liking she gave it in full measure.
Lee had a certain amount of influence over
her, which Terry would not, for the world,
have admitted. She valued her opinion as she
valued the opinion of no one else, and hers
was the only real companionship Lee had
known since her father's death.
"Mother 's a perfect rotter!" Terry went
on, having paused to masticate hastily the
remains of the peppermint. "Oh "—as Lee
made a movement—" don't tell me! You 're
going because of her—to get away from her
and her grousings for a bit! I know!"
Lee did not reply, but she gave the hand
Terry had dropped on her arm a quick, warm
pressure. Her sympathy was comforting; the
hard lines of Lee's face relaxed.
"Where 're you going?" Terry went on.
Lee answered, moving to the end of the
jetty and preparing to step into the boat:
"Patty Clay's. Only for a fortnight. I '11
join you in town."
"Town?" Terry's glance held dismayed
questioning. "Good Lord! Is mother going
back to town in a fortnight?—and this only
the beginning of September. Oh, she 's too
bad! She promised to stay till the twenty-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 21
ninth, and I hate town, and suburbs, and a lot
of dreary houses and poky shops! She—come
back, you little fool "—this admonishingly to
the Pom who was endeavouring to follow Lee
into the boat—" knows I hate it!"
She caught the Pom up by the scruff of its
neck and held it to her. Her eyes were flash-
ing, her cheeks flushed.
"I 'd like to slap her sometimes! If
she does go back to town I 've a jolly good
mind to get into long frocks and drop the little
girl stunt forthwith. Lee—can't I come row-
ing with you?"
Lee shook her head.
"Not to-day," she said. "I don't want to
listen to chatter, or to talk—just to be alone
and get comfortably tired. I 'm sorry."
"Don't mensh. I understand, my dear.
Only don't forget the time and pull out too
far. I 'm going to the theatre with a bunch
of Tim Rawdon's friends to-night, so you 11
probably be in bed and asleep when I come in.
But I '11 be up good and early in the morn-
ing so as to see you off. 'Bye-ee!"
She stood waving, the Pom under one arm,
until Lee and the boat became indistinct in
the faint mist, then, with a word to the old


22 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
boatman, started running back over the sand,
concocting, as she went, various means of
impressing, forcibly, her disapproval upon
Mrs. Dorice.
Lee, pulling slowly seawards, glanced about
her like one uncertain of quite which direction
to take. Then, over her shoulder, she caught
sight again of the vague, uneven shape which
she had been watching from the windows of
her stepmother's room, and a sudden gleam of
determination came into her eyes.
She knew the shape to be that of an island,
some little distance out from the mainland,
and, even on a clear day, not near enough to
be plain to the view. It was called Ruff's
Island, and once had been the site of a light-
house, now nothing but a mass of ruins.
There were some well-known and dangerous
rocks in its immediate vicinity, and while it
was possible to approach it, few ever went
near it. It was bleak, and lonely, and rather
sinister-looking, and since the days before the
lighthouse had fallen to ruin there was no
record of any one having been tempted to
explore it.
Terry had first put the wish to do so into
Lee's mind. Terry was an adventurous spirit,
--


24 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
lighthouse, and, among the rocks below it,
her little boat. The next instant, bewilder-
ingly and completely, both were obliterated.
There were no longer any rocks, any ruins, or
any sea. Unexpectedly, dankly, like a thick,
impenetrable blanket, the dense sea-fog was
wrapping the whole island.


CHAPTER III
It did not occur to Lee at once that, not only
was she cut off from the mainland, but com-
pletely lost. A moment before she had been
within not so many yards of the ruined light-
house, and quite near to the rocks and her
boat. Now it was as if both had been wiped
off the face of the earth, and she was alone.
She stood for a second or two quite still,
bewildered, dismayed. Then she began to
stumble and grope her way forward. The
ruins had been directly in front of her, and she
faced in what she believed to be their
direction. But a sudden slip made her realise
that she had left the sandier ground, and was
almost upon the rocky foreshore again.
Recovering herself she stood, breathing a
little quickly, and trying to pierce the fog for
Some faint glimpse of any landmark that
would give her her bearings. But all she
could see was the thick spirals of mist in her
immediate vicinity, wreathing about her like
the menacing tentacles of Some huge, intan-
gible monster of the Sea.


26 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Her dismay returned. She dared not move
either one way or the other. She was con-
scious of feeling suddenly very cold; in spite
of her thick wool sports coat the damp mist
seemed to penetrate to her skin, and she
began to shiver.
Gradually it was dawning upon her that
her situation was desperate. There was no
hope of making herself heard however loudly
she might call. The island was deserted, and
dangerous, and very far from the mainland.
Nor was it likely that she would be missed,
at any rate for some considerable time, unless,
perhaps, by the fisherman from whom she had
hired the boat.
And it was more than likely that he would
conclude she had rowed along the coast, and
had pulled inshore as soon as she had realised
the fog was creeping upon her. Certainly he
would never imagine that, upon such a day
as this, she had been mad enough to row to
Ruff's Island.
Quite suddenly she was aware that her lips
were trembling, and bit them fiercely to still
them. Lee was no coward, but the prospect
of remaining in this one spot, powerless to
make any attempt to find shelter, waiting


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 27
shivering and sodden by the fog for the day
to come, was appalling.
She felt smothered, choked by the heavy
atmosphere, breathless. With each passing
moment she was beginning to be more and
more frightened. The thick silence oppressed
her, made her know for the first time the real
meaning of loneliness.
Perhaps for five minutes she stood thus, her
hands pressed hard against her breast, her
breath held, eyes straining into the vapour.
Then, so involuntarily that the sound of her
own voice scared and startled her, she gave
vent to a long, shrill, rather tremulous call.
Not that she had the faintest hope of mak-
ing any one hear; only the silence was already
becoming intolerable. The fog seemed to
beat her voice back upon her, but she uttered
the cry again—and then stood suddenly tense
and very still.
... For an instant, it seemed to her, another
sound followed upon it, indistinct, scarcely
audible above the monotonous sucking sound
of the waves among the rocks. With a quick
hope leaping up in her heart she called a third
time, less quaveringly now.
This time there was no doubt about the


28 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
answering sound. It was a voice, a . deep
voice, still muffled and distant, and Lee caught
a half-sobbing breath of relief. She pitched
her own voice now to a piercing " Coo-ee!"
This time there was no reply, and she waited
anxiously.
Then:
"Hallo-ee!" Lee started and turned her
head. The shout had sounded just behind
her, yet she could see no one. "Hallo, I sayl
Where are you? Keep calling, will you—as
loud as possible!"
The tone was at once cheerful and authori-
tative. It brought comfort with it, and relief.
Lee obeyed, facing towards the unseen speaker.
Then with an unexpectedness that made her
gasp he loomed up directly in front of her; a
hand gripped her arm.
"Good!" its owner declared with satisfac-
tion. "I did n't hope to get to you so soon—
you must have been nearer the lighthouse
than I thought. Don't bother to talk—yet.
Just grab hold of my arm and hang on. The
ruins are really quite close!"
Lee laughed a little hysterically. Not until
this moment had she guessed how desperate
had been her plight; the reaction from an


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 29
increasing and overwhelming dread to relief
and a sense of security was unnerving. She
clung with a desperate determination to her
rescuer's arm, trying not very effectually to
steady her voice as she answered him.
"I know. I saw them quite near to me
when the fog suddenly swept over everything
—but unless you 've got very remarkable
eyesight or a unique sense of direction, I don't
know how you 're going to find them."
She spoke in jerks, breathlessly. The man
peered at her for a minute through the fog
wreaths, then laughed, boyishly, reassuringly.
"Got a rope tied to the door, and round
my waist!" he explained. "Sense of direc-
tion is of no use in a fog like this—nor is eye-
sight. What in the name of all that's sensible
made you come out here on such a day?"
Lee laughed again. She was stumbling
along beside him, keeping fast hold of his arm
with both hands.
"I did n't guess there 'd be a real fog till
night—and I did n't really mean to land at
first. Not but what "—with a little shudder
—" I 'm glad I did! To be adrift at sea in an
open boat now would—would be ghastly!"
She spoke through chattering teeth and


30 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
blue lips. On no winter's day had she ever
felt so cold. And then, before he could reply,
a breath of hot air touched her face, a light
showed dimly directly in front of her. She
saw an iron-clamped wooden door, with a
rusty ring of a handle to which was attached
a rope, standing ajar before her. Beyond the
narrow opening was a glow of grateful
warmth and light—the sound of snapping
twigs and crackling logs. Then a firm hand
was on her shoulder, beneath its pressure she
passed a shade uncertainly across the thresh-
old as the big door swung wider; then the
latch clicked, and in a moment the chill world
without was shut away from them.
With a sigh that was half a sob Lee stood
blinking dazedly in the centre of the queer,
rough room, conscious only at the moment of
the mellow embrace of the big fire. Then her
glance went to the man.
Unusually big and broad he looked in his
heavy, dripping oilskins, seeming to fill the
little room. He was not looking at her, but
busily unfastening the rope from about his
waist. This accomplished, he raised his head.
His glance flashed over her—a keen, pierc-
ing, blue glance that made her flush a little,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 31
while it seemed to note every detail of her
woe-begone appearance.
"You must be drenched through!" he com-
mented. Then he jerked his head towards a
gaudy, heavy, many-coloured blanket slung on
a rope across the other end of the room.
"I 'm afraid it's rather primitive accommo-
dation," he said, "but it 's better than
nothing. And you don't want to lose any time
about getting out of those wet things if you
hope to avoid pneumonia. There 's a wooden
box with my kit—such as it is—in there. You
'11 find pyjamas and a bathrobe, and some
rough towels. You '11 feel better when you 've
had a rub-down; and I '11 have some hot
tea all ready in five minutes."
He turned his back on her and began to
divest himself of his oilskins.
For just an instant Lee hesitated; then
with a murmured word of thanks she crossed
the room and passed behind the heavy
blanket.
She felt a little dazed now. The whole
thing was so unexpected, unreal, unusual. If
she had sought distraction from her thoughts
in setting out upon her voyage this afternoon,
she had certainly found it.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 33
stepmother's room not much more than an
hour and a half ago.
Fear and excitement had made her eyes
look almost black; the unconventionality of
the situation, and her apparel, deepened the
rare rose in her cheeks. The tumble of night-
dark hair looked like a dusky halo about her
face.
But after a moment she turned, and, push-
ing aside the guarding blanket, stepped
quietly into the glow of firelight again. There
was nothing of hesitancy in her manner now.
She moved with her customary supple grace
and half-unconscious dignity, despite the fact
that her feet were bare.
The man was bending over the stove. He
glanced back over his shoulder, gave her one
penetrating, steady glance, then Smiled at her.
It was a quick, boyish, pleasant Smile, and
she found herself responding to it imme-
diately.
“Find everything you wanted?” he asked,
his attention on a big brown teapot, and Lee
nodded.
“I’m very comfortable, and beginning to
feel deliciously warm. Only I 'm not quite
Sure yet if I’m awake or dreaming.”


34 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"You 're awake all right!" He set back
the kettle and carried the steaming pot to the
table. "You '11 realise it when you begin to
eat. I hope you 're hungry, because I gener-
ally combine tea and supper when I 'm leading
the simple life. It saves bothering about too
many meals."
"I 'm ravenous!" Lee assured him, and,
rising, came to the table at his quick gesture
of invitation.
She had recovered her poise and her assur-
ance, and moved naturally, betraying no self-
consciousness or awkwardness. She might
have been presiding at the tea-table in the
drawing-room at home, and a flicker of inter-
est and appreciation touched the man's eyes.
He had placed her before the cups, and
took the seat at her side. The meal he had
prepared was plain, but it was well cooked
and appetising—thick rashers of rather fat
bacon, fried eggs, with butter and honey and
bread to follow.
They ate, both of them, hungrily and in
silence, absorbed in the important matter of
satisfying their appetites. Finally, with a long
sigh, Lee pushed her cup away with the uncon-
scious gesture of a child replete with good


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 35
things, and leaned back. Across the big
brown teapot their eyes met, and suddenly
they both laughed.
It was a merry, spontaneous sound that
made them, somehow, friends at once. The
man got up, found a tin of cigarettes and an
old pipe and came back to the table with
them.
For the first time, discreetly, Lee inspected
him closely. He was not nearly so big as he
had at first appeared in his heavy oilskins;
indeed he was thin to gauntness, and only a
little above the average height. But he was
muscular and well built, and he moved with-
out clumsiness.
His hair had been cropped uncompromis-
ingly close, but at the temples it showed a
tendency to curl, and was a crisp, fair brown.
He was deeply weather-tanned, but he had
little colour, and his cheeks were very hollow.
The eyes looking out from thin, fair brows
and lashes were an ordinary, clear blue, and
not striking except when he was roused to
interest and animation.
His features were clear-cut and well
modelled; there was strength and a certain
sweetness in the sensitive mouth; the square


36 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
chin spoke of determination and power. On the
whole, she decided, he might quite easily be
described as good-looking, if not remarkably
so.
She watched him filling his pipe, pressing
the tobacco down with a very brown, capable
finger; as he looked up she smiled.
"Do you know," she said, " I am awfully
curious. I never knew this island was inhab-
ited."
He looked down again at the pipe, still
pressing the tobacco carefully. There was
the faintest line of a frown between his nar-
row brows.
"It was n't," he told her rather curtly it
seemed to her, "until I discovered it—and
decided to play Robinson Crusoe." -
"But is n't it rather dull?"
For answer he waved his hand. On rough
shelves along the opposite wall there were
piles of books.
"One can never be dull with books—and
the sea!" he told her, and she nodded in a
sudden, swift comprehension.
There was a short pause; then:
"But I did n't see you when I landed," Lee
said.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 37
He grinned suddenly.
"I was alternately playing 'possum, watch-
ing you through the crack of the door, and
endeavouring to douse the light of a fire I
had only just succeeded in coaxing to burn. I
was afraid you 'd see the smoke. I assure
you your intrusion put me out a good deal."
Lee lifted her head quickly, and flushed.
He saw it, and made a little gesture.
"That sounds horribly inhospitable, does
n't it? And not very complimentary, per-
haps; but one so seldom finds a place like this,
literally isolated from mankind, and I had
horrid visions of an inquisitive young person
poking round my laboriously constructed
camp, and going back to tell excitedly of her
discovery of a modern Robinson Crusoe on
shunned Ruff's Island. You won't, will you?"
His voice had softened, warmed to a half-
pleading, coaxing note. He added, as he met
her puzzled stare: " Give me away, I mean—
tell folks I 'm camping here, and bring the
hordes of curious civilisation down upon me?"
He spoke lightly, but there was an under-
lying seriousness in his tone. His eyes were
upon hers rather intently. She frowned
slightly, and made a little gesture.


38 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"Of course I won't, if you don't want me
to!" she cried. Her eyes were a trifle puzzled.
He met them and smiled frankly.
"Thanks awfully! Somehow I guessed
you would n't if I asked you. You see, I 'd
hate to have to pack up traps and decamp in
a hurry. It 's very peaceful here."
"But"—Lee's voice was astonished—
"why ever should you?"
She broke off. Very slowly the expression
of her face changed. Suspicion dawned
behind the perplexity of her gaze, a faint
apprehension. She added, quickly:
"You don't mean—you 're not hiding, are
you?"
Her companion's pipe had gone out. He
relighted it carefully. In the glow of the fire-
light his face was undisturbed; his eyes were
intent upon his task. He took a couple of
leisurely puffs before replying.
"I suppose that is about the size of it," he
admitted cheerfully. "One is apt to find too
much publicity—too much of the limelight—
a little trying at times."
Lee drew a long breath. She flushed again,
and the suspicion died out of her eyes. She
gave a quick little laugh.
--


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 39
"Oh! I see!" she cried. "At least, I
think I do. You 're rather well known?—a
celebrity, perhaps?—"
She hesitated. The man shifted slightly in
his chair; his eyes were still fixed upon his
pipe-bowl. For the merest second his lip
twitched.
"Well—yes. Pretty well known. I dare
say I might even claim a certain amount of—
er—notoriety. However "—he shot a sudden
lightning, searching glance at her—" it is
evidently not quite so far-reaching as I had
imagined. You don't know me."
Lee made a slight gesture. She looked
puzzled again. Her clear eyes rested on him
earnestly for a minute, then she shook her
head.
"No," she said, and there was a half-note
of apology in her tone. "I don't know you.
But then, you see, I never glance at society
journals, and very seldom look at newspapers.
Sometimes as long as a fortnight passes and I
don't see one. I 'm sorry—"
The man got up quickly. The expression of
his face was almost of relief. He laughed
down at her, suddenly, gaily.
"I 'm not!" he asserted with emphasis.


40 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I assure you, it 's an immense pleasure to
find that one is just an ordinary, everyday
person for a change. I don't suppose you can
understand it—"
"I can't!" Lee interrupted rather drily.
"You see, I 'm such a very ordinary, every-
day person myself—"
This time it was he who interrupted.
"Not ordinary!" he said, and there was
a sudden something in his voice, in his brief,
sweeping glance that startled her, brought a
deeper flush to her usually pale face. He saw
it and turned away immediately, crossing to
the door and pulling it open. A whirl of
smoke-like, ice-cold vapour poured in, and he
banged it to quickly again.
"No chance of it clearing to-night!" he
announced; and then, at her dismayed excla-
mation, " I 'm most awfully sorry. But there
it is. I '11 do my best to make you as comfort-
able as I can, and it 's warm and dry here.
We '11 just have to make the best of a bad job,
and wait for the morning."
"But—" Lee was on her feet now, a vision
of a scared Terry, an hysterical Mrs. Dorice,
and a shocked and scandalised community
assailing her mentally.
x


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 41
Perhaps he read something of her thought,
for his lip twisted again, half cynically, half
humorously.
"There 's really nothing to worry about,"
he assured her, breaking into her half-uttered
sentence. "Honest, I 'm not so bad as my
probable reputation; and as far as Mrs.
Grundy's cackle—well, there can't be any,
can there?—not if you keep your promise and
don't mention there 's an inhabitant on this
island."
Lee bit her lip, then dropped back into her
chair with an exasperated laugh. There was
something at once boyishly disarming and
amiably reassuring about him as he stood
before her, hands thrust into his pockets, his
fair head flung back. He smiled suddenly as
their eyes met, and she found it gave to him
an unexpected, sunny charm that was very
pleasant.
"It 's really pretty simple, is n't it?" he
proceeded. "You rowed out in this direction
—got caught in a fog—and sheltered in the
ruins. Straightforward enough story, don't
you know—and no need to enlarge upon it.
Meantime "—again he smiled—" we '11 ignore
the awkwardness of the situation and just do


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 43
discussion upon some book or picture, which
occasionally ended in controversy.
Lee was amused, the man evidently enjoy-
ing himself thoroughly. Later, when he had
made coffee and cut some thin sandwiches,
the conversation became more or less per-
sonal again. He drew Lee out more than she
realised. She touched briefly upon her happy
life with her father previous to his marriage;
she spoke of her loneliness since, the impos-
sibility of her position. She spoke affection-
ately of Terry, with an unconscious coldness
and restraint of Mrs. Dorice. She forgot
this man was a stranger, only felt the warmth
of his sympathy. She fell silent for some
minutes; then stirred as he asked quietly:
"But you can't go on like this. You 're
wasting your years, your youth—hardening
yourself. You '11 end by imprisoning your
soul, shutting up all that 's befit within you
behind bars, and growing bitter!"
He spoke quickly, leaning forward. He
was oddly in earnest, for one who was so com-
pletely a stranger. Lee smiled.
"Surely you can break away?" he went on,
and she interrupted with a sudden hardness
in her voice.


44 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I made up my mind to, to-day! In the
onjly way I know how!"
"And that is?—"
His eyes were earnest, questioning. Lee
met them, and smiled cynically.
"Marriage with the first eligible and really
worth-having man who offers himself!"
She flushed brightly a moment after she
had spoken the words, and bit her lip fiercely.
She was angry with herself for having spoken
so, with him for having drawn from her such
a confession. He stared at her for a moment,
then got up quickly.
"You could n't do that!" He spoke almost
roughly. There was angry distress in his
clear eyes. He went on quickly, rather dis-
connectedly: "I have n't seen many women
—girls—like you for—for quite a gooo! many
years. In fact I have n't seen much of
women at all. And I don't understand 'em.
But I do know you 're not that sort of girl."
Lee's chin tilted. She was still angry. She
felt suddenly resentful. Her voice had com-
pletely changed when she spoke again. It
was chill, no longer mellow.
"I am, all the same!" she retorted. "But
it 's scarcely a profitable discussion, is it?


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 45
Let 's talk of something else. About you. I
confess I 'm puzzled. I can't place your pro-
fession. You know an awful lot about books,
but I don't believe you write. Yet—pic-
tures—?"
She paused with wrinkled brows. He was
still standing; now he frowned, as if the sub-
ject jarred. But he answered quietly:
"I—act!"
Something in his tone forbade comment or
further question. They drifted into imper-
sonal talk again; but once or twice, looking
at him, Lee was puzzled afresh. She had
imagined herself fairly familiar with the faces
of most actors of the day; but she was quite
certain this man's had never been among
those she had seen. Again, uncannily, he
seemed to guess her perplexity, for he broke
off in the middle of a sentence to say:
"I have not yet acted in England." And
added, so slowly, and with a deliberation so
• peculiar that she looked at him quickly. "I
hope to, however—almost immediately."
And then again he changed the subject.
Presently he rose and started the gramophone.
He stood beside it, watching the girl. Her
slim figure was relaxed in her chair, her head


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 47
His glance dropped to her lips. She was
standing with her hand on the curtaining
blanket, her hair all about her. Again, invol-
untarily, the man took a step forward.
"Good-night!" he echoed. His eyes were
still upon her mouth, and she blushed sud-
denly, flamingly, as though the glance had
been a caress. The next moment she was gone.
For several minutes he did not move. Then
the music jarred to a stop. He shut the
gramophone and came slowly back halfway
to the curtain.
"I want you," he said abruptly, "to tell
me something—quite truly. Did you mean
what you said just now—about marrying?"
There was an infinitesimal pause. There
was a look in Lee's eyes as she heard him
that was bewildered, and a shade scared.
Then she answered matter-of-factly, on an
unconcealed yawn.
"What a stupid question 1 Of course I
did! Good-night!"
"Good-night!" The man turned away
slowly. But there was no hint of disappoint-
ment in his tone, and after a minute, very
gently, he began to smile.


48 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
The morning dawned clear as though fog
had never been. Lee, coming into the outer
room at breakfast-time, found her host flour-
ishing a frying-pan over the still brilliant fire.
He smiled upon her genially.
"Fried eggs and bacon again," he apolo-
gised. "But you won't mind if you 're as
hungry as I am."
Lee glanced at him quickly, a vague recol-
lection of something disturbing the night
before in her mind. She sat down relieved.
He placed her breakfast before her with
another flourish, and kept up a lively chatter
all through the meal.
Later he helped her into her boat, and,
pushing it out from the rocks, ran out into the
water knee-high. Then he stood, a hand on
either side of the little craft, holding it
steady. Lee smiled at him under her lashes.
"You 've been very kind," she said. "I
really enjoyed my adventure. Perhaps—
some day—we shall meet again."
"Sure!" He spoke with a conviction that
took her aback. He was watching her lips
and trying not to let her see it. His lids were
lowered, and an odd light came and went
beneath them. Suddenly he leaned forward.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 49
Before Lee could stir, his mouth was pressed
fiercely, eagerly upon hers. As, outraged,
furious, she struggled free, he stood upright
and pushed the boat out to sea.
"Sorry!" he said, just a shade breathlessly.
—" I 've no excuse to offer—except that I
have fallen in love—already!" <

s


CHAPTER IV
LEE made her explanations of what happened
curtly and briefly, ignoring alike Terry's tear-
ful relief and Mrs. Dorice's reproaches. She
caught an earlier train to town than she had
at first intended, and was almost feverishly
gay when she met Patty Clay.
At that lady's charming Surrey home she
did her utmost to eradicate all recollection of
Ruff's Island, her adventure, her night there,
and her rescuer's face completely and abso-
lutely from her mind. To this end she
unbent as she had never before unbent, she
was animated—brilliant—restless. She en-
snared and enchained, flirted and laughed
until Patty stared.
But she found the task she had set herself
no easy one. The memory of the caress of
the man's eyes, as much as that of his lips,
burned her. She was furious with herself and
a little frightened.
That kiss was the first she had ever known.
Her throat throbbed whenever she thought of
it, and though she would not admit it, beneath


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 51
her rage there was an odd, tingling sweet-
ness.
She knew a fierce self-scorn for her folly—
that folly that allowed her to linger, even
against her will, on the memory. But she
knew too that the kiss had robbed her of
something, while it had given her something,
and that she would never be the same again.
A letter from Terry came at the end of the
first week. It was brief and characteristic.
Darling,
We are back in town—of course. Some one
mother knew had a flat to let furnished, cheap,
and she took it for six months. It 's very small,
all white enamel, pink roses, and smelling of mice.
Buster had a glorious kill the first night and ate
so many he was sick. I hate it—being here, I
mean.
We 've only been here three days, but mother
has, I feel sure, "got off" again! I know you
hate the expression, but it 's the only way to de-
scribe it. She met him—the victim—at some-
body's reception, and as he 's literally rolling in
money she appropriated him at once. Not that
he seemed averse. I never saw any one fall for
mother so quickly before. He 's called twice, and
is dining to-night and taking us—us, my dear—to
a theatre. His name 's Smithers, and he 's quite


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 53
of her visit she looked worn out. But she had
not succeeded in forgetting Ruff's Island.
For half her journey she sat thinking, while
her pulses tingled afresh and her throat con-
tracted.
Once she got up and stared at herself in the
strip of glass flanked by highly coloured pic-
tures of Haslemere.
“I hate him!” she said, aloud, and vi-
ciously. “I hate—hate—hate him!”
And then blushed as she had blushed that
night when he had looked at her lips. She sat
down hastily, wondering, in spite of her anger,
if she had named the right emotion.
At one of the stations nearing the end of
her journey a newsboy ran past. On the
poster in front of him were two glaring black
lines.
CARSON MURDER
CARSON BREAKS JAIL
Lee stretched out a hand and idly opened
the paper the boy thrust into it. As idly she
read the column on the first page.
Denham Carson, who was tried for the mur-
der of his wife at her apartments in New York


54 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
five years ago, escaped from prison, we are
informed, some weeks ago. So far no trace has
been found of him. It is now believed that he
may have managed to get to England. We pub-
lish a photograph below. Carson is a millionaire,
and has many influential and wealthy frie—
Lee's eyes drifted from the printed words
to the photograph below. She did not move,
but after a moment the paper slipped from her
hand, and she leaned back in her corner, her
handkerchief caught up against her lips.
From the floor the pictured face still smiled
at her. It was the same face that had smiled
at her, boyishly, genially, over a smoking fry-
ing-pan of eggs and bacon in the lighthouse
ruins on Ruff's Island!
For the remainder of the journey Lee sat
quite motionless, staring straight in front of
her. She was shocked beyond expression;
stunned. There was not one moment's doubt
in her mind that the man of Ruff's Island and
he whose portrait lay before her were one and
the same.
There could be no mistake—no chance
likeness here. The same sensitive, half-hu-
morous mouth; the same level, lazy eyes,
mildly amiable, boyishly serene. The only


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 55
difference was that in the portrait the hair
was not so closely cropped. . . .
Lee shuddered suddenly, and her pupils
dilated. She understood now—understood so
much! That unusually short hair—the queer
choice of a dwelling, surely unnatural under
ordinary circumstances in a man of his tem-
perament—the open confession that her ar-
rival had disturbed him; his appeal, half jest-
ing, to her not to " give him away."
She moistened her lips; then rubbed her
handkerchief across them again. He had been
clever. Oh, yes; he had been very clever!
His whole manner had been so natural, so
frank. She herself had thrust the role of a
celebrity, modestly seeking immunity from
the occasionally embarrassing attentions of
an admiring public, upon him. His acceptance
of it had been inimitable. No one could have
harboured suspicion in the face of it.
She remembered his shrugging reference to
"the limelight," his lightning glance when he
had suggested she had no idea of his identity;
his half-laughing, but evidently genuine assur-
ance that he was glad of it. She remembered
half a dozen other things which had been
without significance before, and bit her lip
till the blood came.


56 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Presently she stooped stiffly and recovered
the newspaper. She avoided glancing again at
the photograph, but read the paragraph above
it with a sort of shrinking deliberation.
Denham Carson, who was tried for the mur-
der of his wife at her apartments in New York
five years ago, escaped from prison, we are
informed, some weeks ago. So far no trace has
been found of him. It is now believed that he
may have managed to get to England. We pub-
lish a photograph below. Carson is a millionaire
and has many influential and wealthy friends, all
of whom we learn believe in his innocence, or are
fully in sympathy with him.
The case roused considerable interest and
some of the scenes at the trial were almost unprec-
edented. Denham Carson from a boy has
always been a favourite, and his ill-advised mar-
riage to a girl of far lower station than his own
—a very pretty model, Chrissie Grey, whom he
met at a friend's studio—caused great consterna-
tion among his own people and his intimates. It
transpired at the trial that the marriage had not
been one of affection, at any rate on Denham
Carson's side. His own reluctant evidence at
his trial went to show that while he had admired
her and been foolishly attentive, he had meant
nothing more; but the girl was clever, turned
those attentions to account, contrived to get
them talked about very considerably, and


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 57
finally practically forced young Denham to marry
her. From the first it was not a happy union.
Mrs. Carson, though she had the wealth and
luxury for which she had yearned, was not
received well by Carson's friends, and found
herself painfully out of her element. She soon
tired and took to frequenting her old haunts anew.
Naturally Denham Carson objected—to this, and
to the people whom she made her intimates. The
result was a separation, and Mrs. Carson took an
expensive apartment in the heart of New York.
She continued to get herself talked about, disre-
garding alike her husband's protests and appeals.
She got in with an undesirable set, and when her
name became coupled with that of a man of still
more undesirable reputation, Denham Carson
went in person to interview her. It was a stormy
interview, ending in a violent quarrel, which was
heard by a good many people in other apartments.
Carson had chosen the late evening for his visit,
and no one, apparently, saw him leave. Nor was
Mrs. Carson seen again that night. There were no
servants in the apartment at the time; she was a
difficult mistress to get on with, and generally
relied upon outside help, in spite of her means.
It was not until the following morning that she
was discovered by the janitor, who came to the
assistance of the woman who was working at the
apartment and who, in spite of repeated knock-
ing, had failed to gain admittance.
Mrs. Carson was still in evening dress, and


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 59
one arm. Long-legged, untidy as ever, but
oddly arresting, she caught Lee's eye at once,
and she went forward with unwonted haste.
Never had the sight of Terry been more
welcome. She stood for ordinary, placid,
everyday things—made the past feverish fort-
night and the day which had preceded it
seem like a nightmare. Her merry laugh even
helped to obliterate the horror of the para-
graph Lee had just read.
Terry greeted her with effusion, and, talk-
ing energetically, piloted her through the
stream of passengers.
"My dear! But it's no end of a relief to
have you back! Positively, there is n't an
intelligent human to speak to among the
crowd mother contrives to collect about her!
Except old Smithers! He 's pretty decent
—quite above the average. I like him!"
All this was breathless and exclamatory.
Occasionally she gave Lee's arm an affec-
tionate squeeze; once she paused to admonish
the Pom, who was endeavouring to wriggle out
of her hold in his delight at seeing Lee; once
to pull up her stocking. She had a slight alter-
cation at the barrier concerning her platform
ticket which she had lost, which was term-


60 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
inated by Lee impatiently paying the penny,
and bestowed a sharp but effective reprimand
upon an investigating youth who pulled the
dog's tail.
This necessitated her remaining behind for
a moment or two. Flushed but triumphant,
she caught Lee up at the entrance.
"Little sweep!" she exclaimed. "Said he
wanted to see if it was real—Chicot's tail. I
guess he '11 know his own ear 's real enough
for an hour or so—I tweaked it hard
enough—"
"Terry! You—"
"I 'm anything but ladylike! I know it.
And I can't help it. In fact, I 'm rather glad
of it. Ladylike girls must have a devilish
dull time—and, anyway, they 're pretty out of
date, are n't they?"
"I 'm afraid they are." Lee's tone was
unconsciously prim.
Terry pinched her arm and laughed.
"Dear old girl! Don't look so severe. It
does n't really suit you a little bit. . . . Oh,
I was saying that old Smithers is a decent
sort, was n't I? He—"
"Terry! Really' old Smithers' is scarcely
a graceful way of speaking of a person. You


62 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
of persuasion would be too much for him,
and he 'd take risks—but he 's rather nice.
Haines, I mean—though, of course, Frost is
a dear. Only you can’t move him by a hair's
breadth. He takes his orders from Mr.
Smithers, and Mr. Smithers only—”
She paused for breath. Lee's lip twitched.
There was something of bewilderment as well
as a faintly contemptuous amusement in her
eyes.
“You certainly seem to have become pretty
familiar with this Mr. Smithers and his house-
hold in a remarkably short time!” she
observed drily, and Terry humped an expres-
sive shoulder.
“Sure we have. I told you in my letter
he's absolutely bowled over. Can't understand
it myself. Mother is n’t a bit the type I'd
have thought would appeal to him—he 's one
of those old gentlemen you read about, you
know, Lee—‘old school,' courteous, charm-
ing, for the most part, but with a rather fierce
manner, and inclined at times to become
explosive. Very white—very bushy eye-
brows—very stooped. Speaks slowly, delib-
erately—almost hesitatingly. And simply
rolling in money. Of course mother's all over


64 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
could n't help it, with so much money. Oh,
you need n't curl your lip, Lee. He 's no par-
venu."
Lee made a little impatient movement. She
did not answer, and a moment later Terry's
eager hand jerked her to a standstill before a
big chocolate car upholstered in soft fawn.
"I 'm driving!" she announced, " so Frost
came instead of Haines. Get in. I 'm going
in front."
The man opened the door, wrapped a thin
rug carefully about Lee's knees, and Terry,
depositing Chicot in her lap, whirled into her
seat before the wheel with a great display of
long black legs. Lee caught a glimpse of a
ladder in one silk stocking and a hole in the
heel of the other, then, before Frost was well
in his seat, the car jerked forward.
Terry's driving was decidedly erratic; but
at those moments when Lee fully expected
disaster Frost capably and silently took com-
mand.
The older girl, snuggled in a cushioned
corner with Chicot curled blissfully beside her
and occasionally licking her wrist, grew gradu-
ally conscious of a sense of soothed enjoy-
ment. It lulled her rasped memory of the
"N


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 65
day's shock and her perplexity regarding this
new intimacy of Mrs. Dorice's alike.
A rare feeling of well-being was upon her.
The day was mellow, perfect, golden. The
big car, for the most part, slid on its way with-
out a jar. Frost's straight back and unwaver-
ing attention to Terry's manipulation of the
wheel inspired confidence. Lee ceased to
wonder if she was to meet a violent death
beneath the wheels of rear and advancing
traffic and gave herself up to enjoyment of the
easy, gliding motion.
For not the first time in her life she came
enviously to the conclusion that it must be
good to be rich as, evidently, this man who
owned the big chocolate car was rich. She
found herself wondering what he was really
like. Terry's descriptions, though occasion-
ally crude, were as a rule apt. And a faint
interest stirred Lee, even while she frowned
disapprovingly at the thought of her step-
mother's easy acceptance of a stranger's
favours.
She was intrigued by Terry's description of
Mrs. Dorice's new "victim." He might,
quite easily, be a rather attractive person,
though, she decided, it was more than possible


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 67
Rightly or wrongly she had made up her
mind to remain silent as to the fact that she
had had a companion on Ruff's Island. From
this hour she meant to forget it, to forget
everything that had happened that night and
the following morning. She was determined
to put this man absolutely out of her thoughts
—to forget his audacity and her own folly;
to kill, deliberately, inexorably, that faint,
insidious warmth of feeling which, against
her will, had been growing in her heart for
him.
With steady hands she coiled her smooth
hair about her head; carefully, judicially she
chose a gown. Perhaps she was a little paler
even than usual as she made her way out of
the room and along the narrow hall. But that
was all; there was nothing otherwise to show
that her customary serenity was in any degree
ruffled.
A little while ago she had peeped, unexpect-
edly, at a fresh page in the book of her life.
A brief page, rather dazzling, oddly alluring.
She sighed as she remembered—and bit back
the sigh angrily.
To-night she had closed down that page,
for all time. pl»opE£Tll
Of THt


CHAPTER V
Lee did not meet Jason Smithers until the
following day. She returned home to the
flat after a wearisome and lonely afternoon of
desultory shopping to find Mrs. Dorice, look-
ing absurdly young and quite bewilderingly
pretty, chattering to him vivaciously while
she dispensed tea.
A passing frown shadowed her good-humour
at Lee's entrance, and she performed the
necessary introduction with a rather impa-
tient note in her voice. The interruption was
not welcome. Mrs. Donee's elation at this
man's persistent attentions was growing;
nevertheless the character of those attentions
left her just a shade puzzled. In her heart of
hearts she was bound to admit that she was
not really very certain what they might be
leading to.
Obviously Mr. Smithers found pleasure in
her society, liked visiting her and taking her
about. But his manner to her was never


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 69
anything but that of a greatly older man
enjoying the society of a much younger and
very pretty woman. Not by the greatest
stretch of her imagination could she construe
his attitude into that of a man inclining
towards amorousness. And she was puzzled.
At the same time, triumphantly aware of her
own attraction and unusually youthful charm,
she was growing gradually more and more sure
of her ability to bring things, in due course, to
a satisfactory climax.
Mr. Smithers was a very desirable parti.
He appeared to enjoy a large measure of
power as well as a more than usually large
fortune. He had not been in England any
length of time, yet he was already received
by a good many of the people who mattered.
The house that he had purchased was fur-
nished with a luxurious good taste; he did
not entertain largely, as yet, but he was
lavish, thoughtful, observant, and the machin-
ery of his household seemed to run upon oiled
wheels.
Another woman might have hesitated be-
fore accepting his attentions, his flowers, and
his dinners and lunches and theatres. But
Mrs. Dor ice had no scruples in this respect;


70 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
besides which, she declared later to Lee, it
was quite evident that he was persisting in
deepening the intimacy with some serious end
in view. Added to which he invariably
included Terry in the amusements he offered.
As she gave him her hand, Lee regarded
him closely, her direct gaze resting steadily
upon him.
She saw a man of medium height, who
looked shorter by reason of the pronounced
stoop of his somewhat thin shoulders. In his
face was the yellowish pallor of old age. His
hands were ivory white, big, and well shaped.
They shook a good deal, and he moved rather
stiffly with the aid of a long, gold-topped cane.
His hair was snow white and very abundant,
brushed straight back from his forehead, and
worn a little longer than was perhaps usual.
His brows were very bushy and very black,
but his close-trimmed, thick, pointed beard
was as white as his hair. He wore very
slightly smoked and heavily gold-rimmed
pince-nez, from behind which a pair of decep-
tively mild blue eyes looked forth.
He had a habit of blinking when speaking,
or when especially interested. He spoke with
a slight hesitancy that was at moments almost
|


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 71
a stammer, and his voice was a little harsh.
Later she learned that the mild eyes could
flash very fiercely should an order be dis-
obeyed or his will be crossed in even the
smallest matter.
She learned, too, that he was irascible,
irritable, fidgety, and more than a little dicta-
torial. At the same time he was decidedly like-
able. She decided that almost as soon as she
found herself seated in the chair he had pulled
forward for her on this first afternoon of their
meeting.
He had an old-world charm of manner, a
graceful, half-deferential courtesy in speaking
to all women that was refreshing and rather
delightful. She found herself talking to him
easily, as to an equal, and without restraint.
She observed with relief that he was a gentle-
man, and noted with still greater relief that
there was no maudlin leaning towards senti-
mentality in his attitude to her stepmother.
He was interesting to talk to, more inter-
esting than any person she had ever yet met
beneath her stepmother's roof. He excused
his ignorance of strictly topical affairs
through his having been out of England for a
considerable number of years, but assured


72 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
her that he was rapidly making up for lost
time.
It appeared that he went everywhere with
untiring energy, and saw every play, worth
seeing or not. Discovering her real liking for
books, he begged her to visit his library, and
when she subsequently found herself within
it, Lee was roused to genuine enthusiasm.
It was a library such as she might have
dreamed of, but had never hoped to see.
Everything was there, old as well as the most
modern. She left the big, handsome house
impressed, and—to Terry—admittedly en-
vious.
But in Mrs. Dorice's pink-and-white draw-
ing-room she was occupied with studying the
man himself. To her own surprise he im-
pressed her very favourably. She herself was
aroused to a rare animation. It brought a
warm tint of colour to her cheeks, and an
added brightness to her grave eyes.
Terry, bouncing in presently, stared at her,
then, subsiding into a chair, proceeded to drink
the tepid tea Teresa handed her and to feed
the Pom on cake.
"I 've been trying out the new car," she an-
nounced with a little cheerful nod at Mr.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 73
Smithers. "I went with Haines, but Frost
insisted upon coming along too. Said those
were your instructions."
The old man glanced at her quickly and
quizzically through his glasses, then laughed.
"Quite so. Frost is a remarkably reliable
person. By the way, I told him to keep the
car here."
"It 's waiting—the admired of the entire
neighbourhood! Every curtain in the lower
part of the building was disarranged as I
drove up. Haines hardly had the wheel once,
Mr. Smithers. He says he thinks I '11 be
expert in another week; only I 'm not quite
sure if Frost agrees."
She laughed and took another piece of cake.
"But I think he 's annoyed because in turn-
ing a corner I scraped a bit of the paint off her
side on the mudguard of a 'bus. The driver
swore furiously, and Frost opened and shut
his mouth like a fish. But Haines laughed.
Do you know, Mr. Smithers, I like Haines
awfully. Much better than Frost."
Mr. Smithers smiled. Before he could
answer Terry rattled on once more.
"Anyway, I have n't done much damage.
It's really only a little scratch, so I hope you


74 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
won't be angry when you see it. I really did
n't mean to be reckless, and I 'm ever so
grateful to you for letting me learn and giving
me such a rattling good time."
Her gay voice was suddenly earnest. She
looked up at the old man with frank, wide
eyes that had grown for a moment grave. He
took her small sticky hand and patted it.
"That 's all right, my dear. I 'm glad.
I 'm glad you 're getting on well and that you
like it. I like young people to be amused—
just as I like a lot of youth about me."
He turned to Mrs. Dorice and Lee again.
"By the way, I have a box at the Majesty's
for to-night. Will you share it with me—all
of you? I thought you might care to dine
first at the Ritz."
Mrs. Dorice stirred slightly. The faint
frown was back in her eyes again.
"It would be charming," she declared
quickly. "But, you know, Mr. Smithers,
you 're quite spoiling Terry—she 's losing a
fearful amount of beauty sleep. And Lee
does n't very much care for theatres—do you,
Lee?"
Lee's lips twitched for a moment, her soft
eyes darkened. Then she shrugged. But the


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 75
old man's eyes were upon her; he persisted
gently:
"I hope you '11 come," he said simply.
"It's a very big box—and I believe the show
is particularly good."
"Of course she '11 come!"
Terry whirled to her feet, nodding emphati-
cally, and completely ignoring her mother.
"We '11 both come, like a shotl It 's rip-
ping of you to ask us."
The old man's eyes were still on Lee. She
met them suddenly, and smiled.
"I shall love to come," she told him
quietly, and rose.
He bowed, and turned to Mrs. Dorice. He
murmured a few words in his odd, hesitating
way as she gave him her hand, held it for a
moment, then moved to the door.
Terry followed him.
"You really are a brick, you know," she
observed frankly. "I can't make out why
you 're so jolly decent to us all—"
She broke off abruptly, standing awkwardly
on one leg and rubbing the other up and down
it, to the detriment of her silk stocking.
Mr. Smithers patted her shoulder pater-
nally.


76 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I think," he said, "it is you who are
'jolly decent' to me. I 'm a very old man,
you know, and not a very amusing one. It is
very delightful to have young people "—his
courteous inclination of his white head very
decidedly included Teresa and she flushed, the
frown disappearing as if by magic—" about
one. It is a long time since that pleasure has
been mine. I have—especially of late years
—been very lonely."
He looked away for a minute towards the
window. In his voice there was a note almost
of bitterness. Lee looked at him quickly;
Terry balanced herself on the other leg.
"But have n't you any one belonging to
you?" she demanded. "Have n't you ever
had any one?"
Jason Smithers brought his eyes back from
the darkening sky without and blinked at her.
"Never," he returned quietly. "Never—
not any one that mattered."
Some minutes later, leaning forward with
Terry to look down into the street, Lee saw
him moving stiffly across the pavement to the
waiting car, with Frost's hand under his
elbow.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 77
His voice, harsh, querulous, impatient,
came floating up to them. It rose once,
angrily. The rap of his cane on the kerb was
distinct.
Terry grinned.
"I expect he 's seen the scratch!" she said.
"And Haines is getting hauled over the coals
for not keeping a closer watch over me!"
Among her pink cushions Teresa stirred.
Her good-humour was fully restored; she eyed
Lee complacently.
"Well," she demanded, unconsciously
glancing towards a distant mirror and stretch-
ing up her throat. "What do you think of
him?"
Lee did not answer at once. She was watch-
ing the car drive away. Then she shrugged
and turned back into the room.
"I have n't," she replied, "seen quite
enough of him to be able to decide yet. But
he certainly does seem awfully kind-hearted."
Just before she had finished dressing that
evening, a maid came to her room with a great
box of flowers. Jason Smithers's card was
attached, and the girl drew a deep breath of
pleasure as she took the roses out. They
were deep and red and wonderful, and she


78 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
held them for a moment against her face.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, she took
one from among them and fastened it to the
breast of her white gown.
From across the hall she could hear Terry's
and Mrs. Dorice's voices raised in altercation.
Teresa's was shrill; Terry's calmly deter-
mined.
"I can't help it. He asked me to go, too,
and I 'm going. He would n't have asked me
if he had n't wanted me. And, anyway, it's
not my fault if I have n't any decent clothes
—now, is it? If you 're ashamed of being
seen with me in my old ones—well, you 'd
better get me some new. It 'd be worth
while—if only to keep old Smithers well im-
pressed. Besides—if you think I look too
shabby like this I '11 go and ask Lee to lend
me one of her white muslins. It 'd be too
long, of course, and I 'd look years older;
but—"
Lee heard no more. Mrs. Dorice's door
shut; and half an hour later Terry, in over-
short skirts, as usual, but flushed with
triumph, was doing justice to Mr. Smithers's
excellent selection of a dinner.


CHAPTER VI
THAT night was the first of many such. Jason
Smithers was as persistent in his attentions
as ever; as eager to give the two girls a good
time as to amuse Mrs. Dorice.
And, while there were moments when she
chafed at his delay in making plainer his
intentions, Mrs. Dorice was very well content.
It was a content which had deepened since
one day he had begged for her advice con-
cerning the furnishing of certain rooms in his
big house.
“It 's too dull,” he had declared in his
irascible way. “Because I’m an old man the
people who did the whole place for me made
up their minds it should be without colour—
Sombre. That 's all very well up to a point,
but a woman would n’t like it. She 'd want
something brighter—gayer. I thought you
might help me.”
Flattered and fluttered, Teresa had de-
clared herself delighted. Nevertheless, her in-
inclinations had been for a more expensive edi-
tion of herown present rooms—pink-and-white


80 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
chintzes and diaphanous hangings, and Mr.
Smithers had appeared dubious.
Later he had appealed to Lee. She had
frowned and shrugged, then laughed. Finally
she had looked at him very straightly.
"My dear Mr. Smithers, my taste and my
stepmother's are utterly opposed. Don't you
think that Mrs. Dorice would be able to help
you more effectively?"
Behind his smoked glasses Mr. Smithers's
eyes had blinked in complete perplexity. But
he had said no more. Nevertheless, Terry
brought the information that part of the
house was being redecorated.
"It's ripping," she declared. "He showed
it to me. All soft pastel shades, and old oak—
oh, and a lot of those pictures you were admir-
ing the other day, Lee. You 'd love it."
Thus a month slipped by, six weeks, eight.
Lee had learned to accept the old man now,
and to like him a little. He neither bored nor
annoyed her, and she went out of her way to
be nice to him. And then, one afternoon, she
came home to find the maids running about
with hot-water bottles and sal volatile, and
Terry, very red in the face, choking on the
threshold of her own room.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 81
"Gome in!" she gasped; then, as Lee fol-
lowed her wonderingly, dropped limply on to
the edge of the bed. "It 's all right. No
one 's ill. Only—only mother 's had hyster-
ics—"
She began suddenly to giggle helplessly,
heartlessly. She struggled manfully for com-
posure after a minute, and went on.
"And—I don't wonder. You see—Jason
Smithers" came to-day. He asked to see
mother alone and—and—oh, Lee! it is n't
her he wants to marry at all! It 's you!"
Lee grew slowly scarlet. For a moment she
stood, with eyes that had begun to sparkle
more than a little angrily, speechless. Then
she flung her muff and gloves on the bed and
began to loosen her furs.
"Really, Terry," she said sharply, "you
are getting absolutely incorrigible. Some
jokes are in exceedingly bad taste. Tell me
what is the matter with Teresa at once—"
"I have told youl" Terry's tone was at
once injured and eager. "And I 'm not jok-
ing! It 's perfectly true—every word of it.
Mr. Smithers came this evening, and made
Teresa a formal proposal for your hand in the


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 83
tinued attentions. But she had never for a
moment doubted that Teresa Dorice was the
magnet which drew him so frequently to the
flat.
Never for a moment had it occurred to her
that the old man's interest might be centred
in herself. She had learned to look for his
coming, to try to entertain and amuse him,
even to like him a little. She had found him
a by no means dull or stupid companion; had
discovered that their tastes in many things
were very similar, and that she could give
him real pleasure by listening while he talked
to her on various subjects, or in playing for
him occasionally a little of his favourite
music.
But she certainly had not guessed that his
courteous appreciation of her efforts to enter-
tain him had cloaked any warmer feeling. He
had never thrust his company upon her, had
claimed only a very little of her time, and had
apparently devoted himself to Mrs. Dorice.
So that Terry's news came upon her with a
shock that literally took her breath away.
She let her furs slide from her shoulders
and fall unheeded at her feet. Her thoughts
were chaotic; she was bewildered, half indig-


84 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
nant, still faintly angry. Visualising Jason
Smithers, she told herself that the thing was
preposterous, absurd. He was an old man—
so very much older than he desired, it would
seem, his acquaintances to believe him. She
remembered the stoop of his shoulders, the
unsteadiness of his hands, the stiffness with
which he rose and moved—and in a quick
revulsion of feeling flung out her hands.
"It—oh, I could n't!" she cried, and there
was almost horror in her tone.
Terry glanced at her and grinned.
"Bit of a staggerer, is n't it?" she de-
manded with relish; then added more slowly:
"And—of course—an opportunity in a thou-
sand." She grinned again. "I 'm quoting
mother. In her opinion, at any rate, Mr.
Smithers is the catch of the season, as it
were."
Again Lee's hands went out, then up to her
flushed cheeks. In spite of herself, the words
stuck. "An opportunity in a thousand! . . ."
She moved sharply and turned away. As
she did so she met her own eyes in the little
oval mirror on Terry's dressing-table. Their
expression startled her, and a hotter flame ran
up over her face.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 85
Abruptly, vehemently she exclaimed:
"It 's quite out of the question—impos-
sible! I—I can't imagine how ever he could
have dreamed that I would even listen to
such a suggestion—"
She spoke jerkily, more flurriedly than
Terry had ever heard her speak before. Out
of her vivid brown face the grin died sud-
denly; her eyes became thoughtful, oddly cal-
culating. For a moment she sat, hugging her
thin knees, watching Lee. Then she sighed,
shrugged, and got to her feet.
"That 's a pity," she observed. "There
are n't so many brilliant matrimonial chances
knocking about that one can turn 'em down.
Old Smithers is really an awfully decent sort.
Not a bit stingy, and not—I should imagine
—so frightfully hard to get on with. A bit
gouty and irritable, perhaps—but one can't
have the earth with a fence round it, can one?
Not when it comes to marrying to get it,
anyway."
She paused to tilt her head sideways and
listen to the distant, querulous sound of
Teresa's slightly raised voice, and a flicker of
amusement crossed her impish face.
"Poor mother!" she murmured, with un-


86 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
wonted sympathy. "I should n't wonder if
she 's completely prostrated for nearly a
week! I 'm quite sorry for her. Or, perhaps,
to be really honest, I 'm sorry for myself.
I 've been having a thundering good time
lately, and I suppose if the poor old chap gets
turned down I '11 have to say good-bye to it."
She sighed again, making a rueful grimace,
and after a moment followed Lee, slipping a
hand in the crook of her elbow as she stood
before the dressing-table.
"I suppose," she suggested tentatively,
"you could n't think it over? It never does
to decide hastily, you know. And you 'd have
no end of a ripping existence, Lee. My mouth
waters whenever I look round that house of
his—'specially since he 's had it re-decorated.
Then the cars—and he 's going to buy a
couple of riding hacks! Oh, Lord, Lee! It
ought to be easy enough to say ' yes.' Espe-
cially for you. You don't care tuppence for
men as men—and it is n't as though you were
in love with any one else!"
Lee withdrew her arm so quickly that the
movement was almost violent. A startled
look swept her face—her eyes widened for a
moment, darkened as if with a memory that


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 87
held more than a little of pain. During these
long weeks she had very deliberately put all
thought of the episode of Ruff's Island away
from her. But now Denham Carson's face
rose before her anew—fiercely she bit the
lips upon which, once, his had lain.
Then, abruptly, she turned, gathering to-
gether her muff and the furs. -
“No,” she said, so decidedly that it would
seem she was striving to convince herself,
“it is n’t as if I-loved some one else—”
She broke off as a maid appeared in the
doorway. She held a big salver on which lay
a small square envelope, and offered it to
Lee.
“From Mr. Smithers, miss,” she said. “His
servant is here waiting for an answer.”
For an instant, flushed, uncertain, Lee
hesitated; then she picked up the envelope
and tore it quickly open. Over her shoulder
Terry read it.
May I see you this evening after dinner, at
nine? Or if that is inconvenient, to-morrow at
noon?
J. S.
Lee folded it carefully and put it slowly


90 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
shutting door she turned her head slightly,
and, as she met Lee's eyes, her lips twisted
sharply.
For a long moment there was silence. Lee,
outwardly cold, unruffled as ever, was aware
of an inward distress and embarrassment. She
would have given quite a good deal to be
spared the ordeal of interviewing Teresa at
this particular moment. She sighed a little,
and came a slow step farther into the room.
"You sent for me?" she said evenly, and
Teresa made a sudden, violent movement.
Again her lips twisted; abruptly she turned
on her side, leaning upon her elbow.
"Yes," she cried, her voice still husky from
the recent storm. "I sent for you. Jason
Smithers was here this evening. He—"
"I know!" Lee spoke quickly, a faint
colour rising in her cheeks. "Terry told me.
I—am awfully sorry."
There was a genuine regret in her voice
that seemed to goad Teresa. She laughed
shrilly, her eyes glinting between their swollen
lids.
"Don't be a hypocrite!" she retorted, and
added on a rising note of indignation—" Oh,
you stand-off, touch-me-not girls! You 're all


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 91
alike—as sly as they make them. You—”
She broke off. Before the slow, growing
scorn of Lee's level gaze the accusation fell
somewhat flat. She was silent for a moment,
breathing quickly. She longed, viciously, to
make Lee smart even as she had smarted
during the last hour; her pride and self-esteem
had been seriously wounded; she had told
herself passionately that she had been made a
fool of, while in her heart of hearts she knew
that she had made a fool of herself.
Her supreme conceit had made her blind
to the reason for Jason Smithers's visits, she
had misread his courteous attentions, had
jumped at once to the conclusion that he had
succumbed to her fascinations. She had spent
days and weeks in self-satisfied dreaming, had
made dazzling plans for the future—worse
than all, she had spent freely and recklessly
in an effort, by personal adornment of a more
than usually extravagant kind, to make herself
more than ever attractive. No wonder the
awakening had been bitter!
Characteristically she thrust the blame
upon Lee, instead of accepting it herself, even
while she found it impossible to cheat herself
into the belief that the girl had been any


92 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
wiser regarding the old man's intentions than
herself.
After a moment, with an effort, she forced
herself to speak more quietly.
"Of course," she declared, "he is awfully
old, and very old men never know their own
minds two minutes together! You '11 find
it wiser to make up your mind without too
much dallying, Lee. He may want to back
out later on. Not"—with another shrill
laugh—" that being tied up for life to any
one quite so senile is altogether enviable,
when one comes to think about it! I can
imagine that Mr. Jason Smithers can be more
than a little trying on occasions. He 's pretty
peppery, at the best of times—"
Lee interrupted deliberately.
"Are n't you taking a great deal for
granted?" she said. "I am not aware of
having said or done anything to give you the
impression that I have any intention of—of
accepting this preposterous offer! I—"
"But you are going to?"
Teresa's voice was sharp. She sat upright
among the cushions, and pushed the hair im-
patiently out of her eyes.
Lee looked at her in vague surprise, and,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 93
reading the glance, Teresa flushed a little
more deeply.
"Of course you are!" she repeated.
"You '11 be crazy if you don't!—"
Lee made a restless movement.
"I think," she cried," that I should be mad
if I did! Why, it—it 's unthinkable. Mr.
Smithers is almost old enough to be my grand-
father—"
"Tclck!" Teresa scoffed. "I tell you it's a
chance in a million! Besides "—she hesitated
for a moment, and her eyes narrowed—
"things can't go on here as they are. I can't
have you on my hands any longer, Lee. I
hinted as much before you went to Surrey; I
told you you 'd have to marry. I '11 speak
more plainly still to-night. You 've got to
marry—or—or find somewhere else to go. I
simply can't afford to keep you or dress you—
or have you hanging around. It 's no use
mincing matters. You 're in my way now; as
you yourself said, you '11 very soon be in
Terry's. There 's no room for the three of us
under the same roof, Lee."
She paused, eyeing the girl a trifle ner-
vously; then before Lee could speak she
added:


94 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"Besides, you know, you said that the very
first proposal you might have, whoever or
whatever the man, you 'd accept."
Lee started. Her eyes had darkened. She
was no longer flushed, but very pale. Her
lips were pressed close together, and her
breath was not quite even. She was conscious
of a suffocating sense of bitter resentment—
and of sudden, utter helplessness. The pride
in her cried aloud to her to take Teresa's
unexpectedly blunt ultimatum in the same
spirit in which it had been flung at her. Ex-
istence under Mrs. Dorice's regime had been
difficult since the moment of Tom Dorice's
death. Lee knew that after to-night it would
be impossible. She had endured dependence
upon her stepmother stoically until now; but
she could endure it no longer. Things had come
to a climax; the breach between them was
open now. Teresa had said in the heat of
the moment and the bitterness of her angry
disappointment that which she had only
hinted at before. But it was her concluding
sentence that seared her mind now, and
would not be denied.
Her thoughts leaped back to that other
interview, weeks old now—to the defiant


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 95
promise which had been wrung from her by
the goad of Teresa's complainings. And a
vivid flush flamed up to her temples, to fade
leaving her paler than before.
Her own words seemed to flash before her:
"The very first man who asks me to marry
him, whoever he is, or whatever he is—I '11
accept!"
She stood very still, staring back into
Teresa's eyes. For perhaps the first time she
fully realised the real meaning of Jason
Smithers's offer, and involuntarily she gasped.
Then, rather blindly, and without a word she
turned, and, wrenching open the door, went
swiftly out of the room.


CHAPTER VIII
But when, more than an hour later, she stood
face to face with Jason Smithers, Lee was
perfectly composed. Whatever of agitation
she might have felt she successfully concealed.
She gave the old man a cool hand, and he held
it for a moment, blinking at her in his odd
way from behind the smoked glasses.
Lee met his glance straightly and in silence,
making no attempt to free her fingers. Pres-
ently he let them go, and the girl dropped
back into the chair from which she had risen.
"I was here this afternoon," Smithers said,
"but I did not wait to see you then, as your
stepmother seemed a little—upset."
Lee was conscious of a momentary almost
irrepressible desire to smile. She said, after
a slight pause:
"She has a headache. She is lying down
now. But"—the colour rose faintly in her
cheeks—" she has told me the nature of your
interview with her."
Mr. Smithers looked relieved.
"I 'm glad of that," he said quietly. "It


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 97
simplifies matters for me—and you will have
already had time to give my—ah—suggestion
some slight consideration."
"Yes." Lee's voice was quite expression-
less. She sat with her head slightly bent, her
hands clasped in her lap.
The old man peered at her, slightly frown-
ing. Behind his glasses his glance was more
piercing, and a great deal more anxious than
she knew.
He coughed gently.
"I ought, perhaps, to have approached you
on the matter before speaking to Mrs. Dorice.
But I belong to another generation, and have,
perhaps, rather old-fashioned notions. Re-
garding Mrs. Dorice as your natural guardian,
I thought best to make my offer through
her."
Lee half opened her lips, and her clasped
hands stirred slightly. But she remained
silent, and he looked at her tentatively.
"I felt, however," he proceeded, "that I
should like to have my answer direct from
you."
He moved a little nearer to her, and stood
above her, leaning rather heavily on his long,
gold-topped cane. Lee, rather abruptly, turned


98 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
her face away. Only the stirring of the slen-
der, white, ringless fingers betrayed the fact
that she was not altogether as calm as she
would appear. Mr. Smithers's eyes rested on
them briefly, then lifted to the fine, soft curve
of her cheek.
"Before you give it," he went on slowly,
"I would like to say a few words to you which
—possibly—may influence your decision."
Lee bent her head. She felt the intentness
of his gaze, and was angry with herself
because of the deepening colour in her cheeks.
Her thoughts were still chaotic; her emotions
difficult of definition.
"Had I been even ten years younger," the
slightly hesitating voice went on, "I might
not have summoned sufficient courage to dare
so much—or to hope at all. Because I should
not then have found it so easy to keep out
all question of sentiment. Ten years ago I
might have wanted more from you than you
would have been willing to give—more than
just the joy of your youth near me, your com-
panionship. As it is—"
He paused as Lee stirred sharply, and
looked down quickly at the hands upon his
supporting cane. They were even more un-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 99
steady than usual, and in the hidden eyes was
an expression which might have startled Lee
more than a little had she seen it. It passed,
and he went on quietly:
"As it is, you can—if you will—make the
remainder of my life less empty, and less
cold. I have a great deal that men envy me,
wealth, ease, comfort. But I want more. I
have wanted more—all my life!"
His voice rose a trifle, grew less hesitant.
For an instant it was vibrant with an almost
passionate vehemence. He leaned a little
nearer, and Lee laid her hands rather nerv-
ously on either arm of her chair. She was
looking at him now, looking at him with a new
interest, intently. He caught the look and
held it. When he spoke his voice was re-
pressed, once more hesitantly gentle.
"I want companionship. I want youth to
watch, even if I may not share it. I want to
make real—in a measure—the dreams I
dreamed long ago; dreams of a home, and a
woman's presence to make it sweet. Above
all, I want an end to my loneliness."
He paused, but as Lee was about to open
her lips raised his hand.
"Wait. Let me finish. These things you
74142B


100 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
can give me. No other woman could. Had
Fate been kinder—"
He broke off. Lee, still watching him, was
rubbing her fingers up and down the arms of
her chair.
He bent suddenly and laid his hand over
one of hers.
"I have seen that you are not happy, Lee.
Had you been I might not have spoken at all
of my feeling for you. As it is it seems to me
that it is just possible you may bring yourself
to consent. As my wife you would know ease,
luxury, comfort. You would find yourself
honoured, guarded, and—loved."
He tightened his fingers over hers as she
moved them sharply, and smiled for a minute,
oddly, whimsically.
"I am not breaking my promise and bring-
ing in sentiment. I am simply stating a truth.
I do love you, in my way. I am not fool
enough to make protestations of a lover's ado-
ration, any more than I am fool enough to
hope for more than just a little liking. But it
would make me happy to have the right to
have you constantly near me, to give you all
that I should like to give. You would, in
marrying me, sacrifice nothing but your free-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 101
dom. I should ask of you only comradeship,
a little of your time and a small share in some
of your interests. I should expect a faithful
honouring of the bond between us. In
return—"
He paused again, straightening himself
rather stiffly.
"I think, in return, I could give you much
that your life has lacked. A home—a real
home; a little of the gaiety and pleasure
that is due to you. In short, I would try to
make your bondage as bearable as possible,
though I am afraid you will find me pretty
exacting. I 'm peppery, and old and easily
irritated; I 'm gouty, and frequently grumpy;
I have n't much control over my temper, and
I like my own way. But I 'd try to make
you happy. I think that 's all."
He moved, still stiffly, away from her and
she watched him in silence, still, quite uncon-
sciously, rubbing her hands up and down the
arms of her chair. She was touched, stirred
by an odd flutter of compassion and sympathy.
His manner of dealing with the situation had
surprised and relieved her. She regarded him
with more of kindliness in this moment than
she had ever known for him before. And he


CHAPTER IX
Lee married Jason Smithers one month later.
Somewhat to her astonishment, and not alto-
gether in accordance with her own desire, the
old man insisted upon a wedding of conven-
tional type. He explained somewhat drily
that while he did not desire a farcical " show,"
he objected to an unnecessarily " quiet " cere-
mony. He was proud of his good fortune;
proud of the woman who was to be his wife;
he desired all the rest of the world that mat-
tered to be aware of it.
He upheld Terry in her insistence upon
acting as bridesmaid. He invited all such
friends and acquaintances as he had made in
England since his arrival. He made it plain
to Lee that he hoped to see her friends also,
and he was irascibly annoyed at her sugges-
tion that she should be married in a travelling
costume.
"Nonsense, my dear!" he urged. "You '11
make a charming bride—a charming bride!
I want you to look the part!"
There had been a note of command beneath


104 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
the courteous plea, which Lee had caught and
resented, without resisting. She had made no
further protest, but had shrugged and yielded.
Terry, observing her closely during that
month, had not quite known what to make of
her. Lee was, in some ways, considerably
changed. Undemonstrative as ever, she was
not so cold. It was as though the knowledge
that the time was near at hand when she
would, more or less, be her own mistress, had
thawed and softened her.
And since that interview with Jason Smith-
ers upon which he had made clear to her
his attitude towards her, and just how much
he expected at her hands, her regard for him
had deepened.
He never thrust himself upon her, but he
made it clear that she was always in his
thoughts, he was considerate, kindly, and care-
ful in no way to startle or distress her. The
relations between them grew solidly friendly
some time before the day upon which the
ceremony was to take place.
Terry came to the conclusion finally that
Lee was really happy, and marvelled there-
upon, at first in secret, then openly.
"I can't understand it!" she declared once,
nii


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 105
when the wedding day was so near that the
little flat was in confusion and innumerable
bags and boxes littered Lee's room. "I think
I 'm the most surprised person of all!—count-
ing Teresa out! I fully expected you to be
moving about like a martyr, colder and
silenter, and more stand-offish than ever!
I 've imagined you walking up the aisle like a
marble image, and making your responses in
a voice that would freeze boiling lard! I 've
even stayed awake at nights wondering if you
were fretting in that funny, chilly way of
yours. And here you are, laughing, criticising
gowns, making plans and trotting here, there,
and everywhere with Papa Smithers, for all
the world as though you really enjoyed it! I
believe you 're happy, Lee!"
Lee did not answer for a moment. Then,
suddenly and charmingly, she smiled.
"I 'm happier," she declared with convic-
tion, " than I 've ever been since—since my
father married. It 's almost as if I had him
back again."
"Humph!" Terry eyed her shrewdly, and
then grinned. "Poor old Smithy!" she cried
audaciously. "It strikes me he 's losing his
freedom to gain a daughter!"


106 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
She saw Lee's quick flush, and, springing
up, flung an arm over her shoulders.
"There! Don't wither me, even if I
deserve it. I really am glad you 're feeling as
you do. You 've had the very dickens of a
time with Teresa—and Jason may be a bit of
a bear sometimes, but he 's got a jolly good
heart! You may count yourself lucky. And
he 's as generous as they make 'em. Lee, do
you know what my bridesmaid's present is?
A car of my own—a Rolls-Royce! And / am
going to drive you down to Brookbridge for
your honeymoon and return under the escort
of the estimable Haines! How do you like
the idea?"
Lee shrugged, then laughed. Her eyes
warmed to a quick affection as they rested on
the flushed, freckled face. Then she slid
from beneath the encircling arm and began
taking down her hair. She did not answer,
and Terry proceeded, balancing herself on the
bed-rail and swinging her legs:
"He says he wants you to have me with
you quite a lot—so you won't be lonely. And
the stables at Brookbridge are a dream—
Jason 's never seen you on a horse, has he?
You '11 knock him endways when he does.
Dash! That 's Teresa—"


108 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
he had retired, on Frost's arm, to the library.
Now, as she dressed for dinner, she smiled to
herself half whimsically, yet with the shadow
of a frown between her brows.
She made a very careful toilet, pausing in
the middle of it to glance towards the window
at the sound of a car in the drive below. It
stopped at the house, and later she heard it
slurring away towards the gates of the short
drive.
When, presently, she descended the shallow
oak stairs she found Frost awaiting her. He
bowed, and made a little gesture towards the
dining-room.
"Dinner is served, ma'am," he murmured.
"Mr. Smithers desired me to tender you his
most sincere apologies, and to tell you that he
had been unexpectedly summoned to Oak-
bridge, a village only a few miles from here,
ma'am. The matter is important and cannot
be ignored, and he begs that you will under-
stand. He hopes to be home in a few hours,
but begs that you will not wait for him. Will
you take dinner now, ma'am?"
For a moment Lee stared, flushed, bewil-
dered, and utterly taken aback. She was
conscious of a strange mingling of chagrin,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 109
anger, and amusement—then, against her
will, she laughed.
She partook of her meal alone, but with
enjoyment. Her surroundings were delight-
ful, soothing, peaceful, and involuntarily as
she left the table and passed into the smaller
drawing-room, with its big hearth, she drew a
deep sigh that had in it an immensity of satis-
faction and appreciation. For an hour she
dreamed, for a little longer tried to read.
Then she went upstairs to her own apart-
ments. She lingered over her toilet, and it
was fairly late when at last she found herself
in bed, and with a tired sigh she fell almost
immediately asleep.
It was perhaps two hours later that she
awoke, clearly and abruptly, wide-eyed, and
with a queer consciousness of some disturbing
sound. She sat up among her pillows, listen-
ing. The sound came again—the faint scrape
of a window gently shutting, that soft tread
of cautious feet past her door. She heard the
stairs creak—heard a movement in the room
below her, and shivered suddenly, more from
excitement than fear. After an instant's hesi-
tation she glanced at the illuminated clock by
her side. It was three in the morning, and


110 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
upon an impulse she slipped out of bed. There
was another stir from the room immediately
below her, and she stood for a moment
frowning.
Then, in the darkness, she felt for and
found a long silk wrapper, and, pulling it round
her, gently opened the door. Silently, swift
as a shadow, she ran down the stairs. The
room immediately beneath hers was, she had
already discovered, the library. She turned
towards it now. The door was partly ajar,
and a faint light shone through.
Again she hesitated, then moved lightly
across the hall till she stood on the threshold.
Very gently she pushed the door wider. By
one of the long windows a man was standing.
A cap was pulled down over his eyes, a long
coat hid his figure, but a swift, searching
glance told her that he was not Jason Smithers
or Frost. And, before she fully realised what
she was doing, she reached out and touched
the electric switch, flooding the room with light.
And then, with a smothered cry, she
dropped her arm. The man at the window had
turned sharply. In the dazzling glow from
the electric bulbs their eyes met, and Lee gave
a sudden, choked gasp.
-x


CHAPTER X
Terry, whistling the "Wedding March"
shrilly and exuberantly, guided the big new car
skilfully through the tricksy lanes in the im-
mediate vicinity of Brookbridge, only slow-
ing the pace reluctantly when at length she
came into the more busy thoroughfares.
At her side, alert and watchful, Haines sat.
He made no attempt at interference; Terry
was already fully capable of managing any
car, and had proved an intelligent and apt
pupil of whom her teacher was openly proud.
If she possessed the fault of over-much daring
at times, Haines, being young and reckless
himself, condoned it secretly, though he made
a pretence at protest which deceived Terry
not at all.
Terry liked Haines. He was young, and
enthusiastic, and distinctly more human than
any of the other servants in the Smithers
menage. Indeed, there were times when she
quite forgot he was a servant. He could talk
interestingly upon other subjects besides auto-
mobiles and the way to drive them. Having


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 113
discovered this, Terry encouraged him to do
so, and found her enjoyment of her lessons
added to thereby.
In the commencement of those lessons,
Frost, wooden, silent and attentive, had inva-
riably accompanied them. During the last
month, however, the exigencies of the many
preparations for his master's coming marriage
had claimed him; a fact which Terry found
rather a relief. Frost was an excellent person,
but a trifle apt to insist deferentially upon his
master's instructions with regard to the daily
drive being carried out to the letter. With
Haines Terry knew that she could have her
own way entirely; nor did she fail to take it.
The excitement of Lee's approaching wed-
ding palled upon her very soon, and she took
advantage of it to enjoy more time with her
beloved animals, or in one or other of the
cars. If her absences grew longer, the fact
was unnoticed now. The hour's drive was
frequently lengthened to two, sometimes even
to three. Haines shared her love of animals
and out of doors. He became more and more
communicative, and achieved an unshakably
high place in her estimation when he pulled
the Pom through a serious gastric attack


114 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
which Terry had distractedly decided would
prove fatal.
So that, on the whole, through this last
month Terry had enjoyed herself more than
ever she had in her life, and had known
more of companionship as well as of freedom.
To-night, except for her piercing, boyish
whistling, she was silent. She was absorbed
in recollections of the day's doings, more
especially of Mr. Smithers's stables. She
broke off in the middle of the "Wedding
March " to inquire of Haines if he had seen
them.
"The horses are gems!" she declared.
"Especially the red mare which is Miss Lee's
—I mean Mrs. Smithers's. Lord! What a
very unattractive name Smithers is, to be
sure! Mine 's a black—the one I 'm to learn
to ride on, I mean. I wonder who '11 teach
me. I 'm going back to Brookbridge in a
fortnight to stay for a while, you know."
"Yes, miss. Keep a little more to the left,
Miss Terry, there 's not much room just here
between the tram lines and the kerb—
Steady!"
Terry had steered obediently but recklessly
to the left, with the result that her mudguard


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 115
came raspingly in contact with a lamp-post,
and Haines stiffened alertly in his seat. But
with a superb disregard of possible damage
the girl proceeded to guide the car on to a
more even course and went on.
"I only saw the head groom, and he does
n't look as though he 'd be a very inspiring
teacher! He looks like Lester in the Arca-
dians!"
Haines grinned.
"Yes, miss. But I expect I shall teach
you, miss. Mr. Smithers said something
about it only this afternoon. I 've a pretty
fair knowledge of horses, and I think you '11
like the little black. She '11 carry you nicely."
"Youl" Terry widened her eyes and peered
up at him as well as she might in the gather-
ing darkness. "Gracious! What a very
versatile person you are, Haines!"
She studied him with a new interest, ap-
provingly. In his neat chocolate livery,
sitting very straight and upright, he looked
wiry and capable, and rather remarkably
pleasant. He spoke again as she turned the
car into one of the wide roads crossing Ham
Common.
"If you 're meaning to drive through the


116 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Park, Miss Terry, you '11 have to let her out a
bit. It 's longer that way, and I 've got to
get back to Brookbridge to-night."
"To-night!" Terry's voice was a little
blank. "Why, Haines! If you 're going
back to Brookbridge, how about my lessons?"
Haines was looking straight before him.
He spoke with well-trained expressionlessness.
"You '11 not be needing lessons any longer,
Miss Terry. It 's only practice you 're need-
ing now. And Butler is in charge of the town
garage. You '11 find him very efficient,
miss."
"But—" She stopped abruptly, conscious
of and amazed at a disappointment out of
all proportion to its cause. Almost involun-
tarily she increased the speed, racing through
the silent park, and thrilling as the car leaped
forward. Mentally she decided unkindly to
give the estimable Butler, who was Scotch and
dour and cautious, a few sharp jolts.
They passed out of the park and reached
the ridge of Richmond Hill. Without slow-
ing up, she let the Rolls-Royce sweep giddily
down it, and drew up with a jar and a jerk
halfway along the narrow main street. A
newly decorated hotel in a short side street


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 117
flung inviting lights through the gloom. Terry
began to loosen her coat-collar, and free her-
self of the thick rugs about her knees.
"I 'm hungry," she announced. "I think
I shall have some dinner here, and go on to
town later, Haines." She wriggled free of the
rugs and made a movement to rise, then
stared with raised brows at the chauffeur as
he did not stir. "You can bring the car back
here in forty minutes," she added as she stood
up.
Haines's face was utterly blank. He looked
for a moment at her stupidly, as though he
had not heard aright. Then mechanically he
rose to let her pass him, but instead of de-
scending and opening the door for her, slid
into the seat which had been hers. As he
realised that she was quite in earnest, his eyes
changed a trifle, grew intent, hardened.
"Excuse me, Miss Terry," — he spoke
quickly, with his habitual quiet deference,—
"but I don't think you can do that. I mean
—Mr. Smithers was very particular that I
should get you home and the car safely
garaged before—"
"Hang Mr. Smithers!" Terry retorted
indignantly and inelegantly. "It 's nothing


118 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
to do with him where I choose to dine or when
I get back. The car 's mine, anyway. While
you 're driving it, Haines, you '11 take my
orders."
There was a rather odd expression in
Haines's eyes as they rested on her. For all
her happy-go-lucky carelessness of conven-
tions and appearances, Terry could, when the
need arose, be very much upon her dignity.
She spoke now coldly, incisively; there was a
rebuke in her voice beneath which the chauf-
feur flushed.
He stirred a little uncomfortably.
"I 'm afraid," he said rather hesitantly,
and with real reluctance, " in—in this partic-
ular case I can't, Miss Terry. Mr. Smithers's
orders were imperative—to see you direct to
your home, and to return to Brookbridge at
once. Besides, he would be very much put
about at the idea of you dining alone in a
Richmond hotel, miss."
Terry began to lose her always somewhat
fiery temper. Two brilliant sparks of anger
lit her eyes.
"Mr. Smithers did not marry me as well as
my sister!" she retorted. "And because he
has given me a car and lent me his chauffeur,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 119
he must not expect to either control my
actions or interfere with my inclinations
through that chauffeur. Open the door,
Haines, please."
Haines stooped forward and laid his hand
upon the door, but he did not open it. His
mouth was set obstinately, though his voice
was still deprecating when he answered her.
"I 'm sorry, Miss Terry. It 's imperative
I should get—we should get to town as
quickly as possible. Besides which, I am,
up to a point, responsible for you. It would
be very undesirable for you to go into that
hotel alone. I—er—I could n't let you do it,
even apart from Mr. Smithers's orders."
"Let me do it!" With a sudden move-
ment, flushed, quivering, and more angry than
she remembered ever being, the girl stooped
and wrenched open the door. "I shall do
exactly as I please, Haines! The sooner you
understand that the better!"
She stepped out quickly, but the chauffeur
was quicker. His arm closed round her.
Before she realised it, she was lifted back into
the seat beside him, and at the same moment
the car leaped forward. She struggled,
passionately, furiously, but she was helpless.


120 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Haines held her, driving with his left hand
until they were spinning rapidly along the
Kew Road. Then he released her. And as
she found herself free, Terry's rage flared,
utterly uncontrolled. Lifting her hand she
struck him with all her force across the face.
For just an instant the grey eyes, looking
straightly out from beneath the peaked cap-
brim, hardened to steel. But the set mouth
did not unclose, nor, for one instant, did the
strong hands upon the wheel waver.
At their destination he alighted swiftly,
opened the door, and drew the rugs from
about Terry's knees. As she stepped down
into the road he touched his cap silently, and
again her anger flamed.
"I will give my orders concerning the car
to Butler to-morrow," she said. "You,
Haines, have forgotten yourself unpardon-
ably."
Haines's finger went to his cap again.
"Yes, miss," he returned meekly, and re-
mained motionless as she turned away.
But her glance had caught the darkening
wheal across his cheek, and at the entrance
to the flat she hesitated. Then, impulsively,
she turned and went back to him. Her head


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 121
was held high, her cheeks aflame, and her
eyes were brilliant and defiant. But they met
his levelly.
"So did I, Haines!" she said clearly. "I
beg your pardon!"
• Haines's cap was swept suddenly to his
knee, revealing a curly fair head and a face as
deeply flushed as Terry's was pale. His own
eyes warmed, smiled. Beneath them Terry's
face grew unexpectedly hot.
"Forget it, miss!" said Haines. And for
many minutes after she had disappeared he
stood bareheaded by the car, his eyes on the
dark door that had swallowed her.
From among the spare rugs thrown loosely
on the seats inside the car something stirred
and a hand reached out stealthily to open the
door. A man, wearing a cap pulled low over
his eyes and a white muffler close up about his
chin, stepped silently out on the roadside. He
left the door swinging and moved rapidly away.
But at the corner of the street he looked back,
and chuckled. Haines was still looking at
the entrance to the flats with his cap hang-
ing loosely in his hand.


CHAPTER XI
BEREFT of the power of either speech or
movement, Lee stood staring dumbly into
Denham Carson's startled eyes. Her heart
was pounding wildly, suffocatingly; utter be-
wilderment was upon her.
For an instant Carson had been as taken
aback as she; but only for an instant. The
next he was at her side; a long, strong brown
hand closed upon her wrist, pulling her
almost roughly across the threshold into the
room. Then he released her, the door was
jerked shut with a soft click, and he stood
facing her with his back to it.
Lee caught her wrap more closely round
her and laid a not very steady hand upon the
back of the nearest chair. Her lips were
trembling a little, her eyes were frightened.
They clung to the lean, brown face, rather
Set now, and hard, searching, questioning.
Her breath still came rather gaspingly.
Denham Carson smiled suddenly—that
quick, boyish Smile which she had found so


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 123
disarming and so reassuring when first she
had seen it. It brought with it a poignant
stab of memory, and the colour flooded her
face in a hot wave. Some of the fear left her
eyes and a half-scornful anger took its place;
the soft lips shut abruptly in a straight line.
She was beginning to recover herself, and
she made a quick, half-nervous gesture, speak-
ing at last, rather jerkily.
"What does this mean?" she asked.
"What are you doing here? How did you
get here?"
Carson made a deprecating movement of
his broad shoulders.
"Through the upstairs hall-window, via
the verandah pillar and a remarkably strong
vine! The invitation was impossible to resist.
I hoped I had not disturbed any one."
He was bewilderingly at his ease. His lack
of agitation increased her own, while it roused
in her a quick gust of anger. His effrontery
was astounding, and she reddened anew.
"I mean "—she flung at him sharply—
"why are you here?"
She spoke without lowering her voice, and
saw a faint shadow of apprehension cross his
eyes as he glanced behind him at the door.


124 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Somehow it served to give her back a measure
of her composure. Turning, she crossed
slowly to the hearth. The electric bell was
within reach of her hand, and again the
flicker of apprehension showed in Carson's
eyes as they rested upon it. But he spoke
rather softly, quite without flurry or haste.
"Chiefly," he told her in answer to her
question, "in the hope of finding something
to eat and drink. I 'm rather thirsty, and
quite decidedly hungry. Fugitives from justice,
you know "—his voice was light, but there
was a sudden bitter note in it—" have a
fairly strenuous time on the whole! I 've
found to-day—in particular "—he grinned
unexpectedly, with a gleam in his eyes that
was disconcertingly mischievous—" even more
than usually exciting! There 's been mighty
little time to attend to the inner man, I
assure you. But then, that 's generally the
way at weddings, is n't it?"
Lee started and swung round. Her eyes
were very bright, and at something within
them—something of shrinking with which
was mingled defiance—Carson's smile died
abruptly.
"I don't understand!" The girl's voice


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 125
was halting, a little shaky. "You don't—
you can't mean that you—" She stopped.
Carson met her reluctant glance straightly.
His lips twitched again.
"That I witnessed the interesting cere-
mony? But certainly. I would n't have
missed it for the world! Human nature 's
odd, is n't it? There 's a certain fascination
in looking on at another chap's good fortune
—more especially when one 's utterly down
and out. I suppose that 's why gutter-kid-
dies always linger outside the most expensive
toyshops! Besides, I really did n't believe
you 'd do it! I thought you 'd funk at the
last minute!"
Lee gasped. A sudden fierce anger blazed
in her eyes.
"How dare you!" she said in a stifled
voice.
Carson regarded her gravely.
"I did, really," he assured her. "Of
course, I have not forgotten what you told
me about yourself—your life—that night on
Ruff's Island, but I did n't credit you with the
courage to make a marriage so frankly mer-
cenary."
Lee's face went quite white. She reached


126 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
out her hand impulsively behind her to the
bell—then drew it back. She spoke after a
minute, coldly, very quietly.
"Your comments," she informed him lev-
elly, "are impertinence to which I have no
intention of listening! You have no right to
make them, or to criticise—"
"Oh, but I have!"
Carson left the door suddenly and came
across to her. One hand was thrust idly into
his pocket, in the other he swung his cap.
The light shone upon his clean-cut head, the
hair no longer close-shaven, but grown to
abundance, boyishly curly. Lee rested her
eyes upon it, and turned them abruptly away.
Her heart was stirring strangely, her throat
contracted. For a moment it seemed as if
the scent of wood-smoke, and sea mist was
in her nostrils.
"I have the greatest right of all!" Carson
went on. "The right of a man who loves
you—and who has been the first to kiss your
lips!"
He met the blaze of her startled, angry
eyes quietly, even seriously. His own looked
vividly blue—bluer because of the deep tan
of his face—and again, in spite of herself, in


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 127
spite of her indignation, Lee's heart fluttered
and stirred.
She was dumb for a moment; then she
flung out her hands.
"You 're mad!" she accused him.
He chuckled suddenly, amusedly.
"I 'm beginning to think I am! If I were
sane I surely should n't indulge in such ad-
ventures as weddings and wedding journeys!
But all dreamers of dreams and lovers who
are very much in love are mad, are n't they?
And—I 'm both! I 've had ample time for
dreaming, you know "—rather grimly—" and
the sweetest of them has been the dream of
riding at a dream woman's side on her wed-
ding day. Only "—he shrugged, with a rather
twisted little smile—" though the dream
materialised up to a point, circumstances
somewhat spoiled the illusion! Such a jour-
ney should be accomplished openly, not in
concealment."
"But "—the question was wrung from Lee
in sheer amazement—" you can't mean that
you came here with us—in our car?"
Carson laughed.
"Why not? It was a big enough one in
all conscience! And simply piled with rugs!


128 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Besides, Brookbridge is nice and out of the
beaten track, though quite conveniently close
to town."
He was leaning against the mantelpiece
now, very close to her. Instinctively, with a
breath-catching in her throat, she moved back
a little. Carson went on without appearing
to notice.
"You see, I was beginning to suspect that
I 'd been spotted in London. A sojourn in
the country or suburbs is desirable for a week
or so; and I knew I 'd never be suspected of
making a get-away in the company of the
newly married Mr. and Mrs. Smithers! I
reckoned on just glimpsing your new home,
and then wandering on across country some-
where. A garage is quite a comfy place to
take a nap in, I assure you, and on the whole
I 've had quite a pleasant time. Only "—
he laughed again, low in his throat—" I 'd
forgotten my appetite! I like food, and I 've
had precious little all day! You can under-
stand now the temptation of that open hall
window!"
Lee stirred, but she did not speak. He
went on, conversationally.
"In a house like this I knew there 'd be
.N


130 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"Well?" he asked. His voice had changed
again, was curt, rather sharp. Lee looked
up, and as their eyes met he straightened him-
self. "What are you going to do?" he added.
"You know who I am now, of course. You
know that I 'm hiding from justice. The
hand of every man is against me, the brand of
Cain upon me. You 've only to touch that
bell and bring your servants upon us. I
should n't attempt to escape, since I know I
should n't have a chance. Or—you can let
me go."
Lee drew a quick, almost painful breath.
Her face was pale now, her eyes uncertain.
She stood with her fingers locked tightly to-
gether up against her throat, her lower lip
held close between her teeth.
Again Carson spoke.
"It may influence your decision if I tell
you that I am absolutely innocent of the
crime that has been laid at my door. Of
course you may not believe me. There is no
reason why you should."
He paused. Once more Lee drew a deep
breath. Her eyes were upon his, searching,
earnest. He met them levelly, steadily—
and suddenly she let her hands fall. Yet


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 131
still her whole attitude was one of indecision.
Carson made a sudden, shrugging move-
ment of his shoulders.
"Or," he asked, " did I dare too much at
the moment of good-bye on Ruff's Island?
Was my offence so great that you are unable
to resist sinking mercy beneath a desire for
revenge?"
He watched the colour flood her cheeks,
mounting to the very temples, sweeping even
over the white throat. Then, meeting the
flash of her eyes, in which there was a queer
hurt as well as resentment, he flung wide his
hands in a gesture of appeal and apology.
"Forgive me," he begged, and there was
a new, warm, husky note in his voice. "That
was a hateful thing to say!"
Lee did not answer him. Very quietly she
brushed past him and moved to the door.
But even as she reached the threshold, she
stopped abruptly. From somewhere outside
there came the sound of steps on the gravel,
the muffled sound of voices. Through the
narrow parting of the heavy blinds there
flashed a light. Somewhere in the house itself
there was a stirring.
Lee let her outstretched hand fall, and


132 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
swung round, gasping. Denham Carson,
grim-lipped, had already sprung for the win-
dow; but the girl stayed him with a quick,
low cry.
"No—no! Whoever is out there is on the
drive—and they 've got a light. They 'd
see you—you could n't get away!"
Her voice was shaking. Carson, halting,
turned to her slowly. His face was very
white; his eyes were aflame.
"Damn!" he whispered, very softly, just
above his breath. Then he lifted his arms
and let them fall limply. The gesture was
eloquent of hopelessness; beneath the gleam
of his blue eyes there was a bitter despair
that made Lee put her hand quickly to her
throat. Then, suddenly, she reached out
behind her and turned the knob. Her own
eyes were as brilliant as his now, her lips
were quivering.
"Go this way!" she commanded impera-
tively. " Upstairs! There are no servants in
this wing—not even my maid. You can get
out through my room—it 's just above this—
and there 's a balcony outside the window
that runs all round the wing! Be quick!"
She pulled the door open as she spoke.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 133
The light flooding from the room showed the
shallow, thickly carpeted staircase. Steps
sounded in the house, but they were distant;
the swinging light from without shone
through the crack in the curtain again. In a
flash Carson had passed her, and as she heard
him running up the stairs she leaned for a
moment weakly against the door.
But she had no time for analysis of either
her actions or her feelings. The steps outside
were close to the window now. Those within
the house were hurrying nearer to the room.
For an instant Lee hesitated, then she
crossed the room and pulled aside the cur-
tains.
A moment later she had unlatched the
window. One of the grooms came forward
eagerly, then drew back at sight of her,
making a quick salute, just as Frost came
hurrying into the room.
Lee was conscious of a swift relief at sight
of him. The groom spoke quickly, almost
apologetically.
"Beg pardon, ma'am—but we thought we
heard some one monkeyin' round outside the
stables—and then we saw the lights down
here an' came along—"


134 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
He met Frost's eye and paused. Lee
laughed a little shakily.
"I heard a sound, too!" she explained.
"That's why I came down! I was frightened
—but if there was any one here he—they—
must have gone before I got down. I—"
She broke off. Frost's quiet eyes were
upon her. They were as expressionless as
ever, yet somehow she felt herself flushing
slowly, guiltily, beneath them, while she was
impelled away from the window and towards
the door.
Frost made a slight inclination of his head.
His voice was reassuringly respectful when he
spoke.
"I think there is no need for alarm, ma'am.
I will see to it that the house is thoroughly
searched—as quietly as possible. Mr. Smith-
ers is a trifle unwell, ma'am, and is only just
gone to sleep; it would be better not to
disturb him. You can leave things quite
safely with me, ma'am."
Lee accepted the information gratefully,
and hurried out of the room. She was tingling
all over, still bewildered, scared, and more
agitated than she had ever been in her life.
At the open hall window she paused, leaning


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 135
against it for a moment and drinking in
thirstily the crisp, cold air.
She was utterly weary, the whole day had
been trying in the extreme, and her head was
throbbing painfully. In spite of the cold the
night air was refreshing, and she was too
restless to go to bed—too uncertain of how
Denham Carson had managed to make his
escape.
She waited, drooping against the casement,
by the window, listening to the murmur of
voices below stairs, watching, presently, the
firefly-like flicker of lanterns across the lawns
and through the shrubberies. From some-
where on the distant road there came the
slurring hum of a car—an owl hooted sleepily.
At last, with a little sigh, and shivering, she
straightened herself. Softly she padded up
the remaining stairs and along the corridor to
her room, groping for the handle.
As she passed through the door and closed
it behind her, she stifled a sudden cry and
stood rigid. At the farther end of the room,
by one of the windows, a shadowy figure
stirred. Denham Carson's voice, whispering,
reassuring, came through the darkness; in a
moment she found him at her side.


136 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"Hush! It 's all right!" he declared. "I
could n't go—not till I 'd seen you again. I
want to know why you 've done this for me?"
Lee gave a smothered exclamation.
"But you are utterly mad!" she whispered
back fiercely.
She started away as she felt his hands grope
for hers, but he was too quick; his fingers
closed tightly about her wrists. She strove
for a second to free herself, then stood very
still.
Carson bent his head down close to hers.
"Why did you?" he asked. "Why did
you?"
She caught the insistence of his voice, a
throbbing note of passion in it; her captured
hands were touching his breast, and she could
feel the beating of his heart beneath them.
She stood for a moment thus, her head flung
back, her lips apart. Then she wrenched
unexpectedly free. She was trembling a little,
and in the darkness her eyes shone strangely.
For a few, pulsing seconds she did not speak.
It was as though she found great difficulty in
choosing her words; when they came, it was
haltingly, a trifle breathlessly:
"Because," she said, and flung an arm
-,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 137
towards the window, " I suppose—/ am mad,
too! Now go!"
In the darkness Carson laughed. There
was something in the sound that made Lee
catch her hands up to her face, even though
she knew he could not see her. Through her
interlaced fingers she saw the indistinct figure
lean towards her.
"That 's not the only reason," he asserted
confidently; and laughed again—an odd, low,
gentle laugh that still had in it something of
triumph.
Then he straightened himself, moved away
from her, and a moment later stood silhouet-
ted against the window. He pushed it open
soundlessly, and stepped over the low sill.
From the other side he leaned back into the
room.
"This is n't 'good-bye,' you know!" he
told her, with that audacious assurance which
was, to the girl, alike baffling and bewilder-
ing. "We 're going to meet again!"
The window slid down softly; from beyond
it came a muffled "good-night" that Lee
sensed rather than heard. The silhouette
wavered, and was gone.
Lee stood without moving, her hands still


138 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
laced across her eyes. But they were wide-
open eyes, in which there was flickering a
wholly new expression—a wonder, a fear, and
a wild unrest.
The comfortable serenity which had grown
up within her during this last month was
gone. Her cool satisfaction with her changed
lot was no more. The blood was surging
hotly through her veins; her heart was leap-
ing. Even she herself did not know what
the medley of emotions in that heart spelled.
She dared not ask.
It was not until she had stood so long that
she began to sway that she moved at last.
Then, rather stumblingly, she felt her way to
the bed and flung herself down across it,
catching her long hair across her eyes so that
they still were hidden.
N


CHAPTER XII
LEE came down to breakfast the next morn-
ing looking listless, and with a faint shadow-
ing beneath her eyes. Her usual delicate
pallor was accentuated, her manner nervous.
Her sleep had been fitful, troubled, and she
still felt shaken, bewildered, and vaguely ap-
prehensive.
She found her husband awaiting her, and
she greeted him with an unaccustomed awk-
wardness which made her feel absurdly young
and gauche. She bit her lips as he took her
outstretched hand into his and bowed over it
in his odd, old-fashioned, courteous way,
striving after the composure which so seldom
deserted her.
For the first time since he had asked her to
marry him she was conscious of being averse
to, almost resentful of, his touch. The knowl-
edge of the tie between them seemed sud-
denly to loom up before her, oppressive, even
menacing. Yesterday her bonds had lain
upon her lightly; to-day the world was
changed.
She knew it even while she refused to face


140 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
the knowledge, and as Smithers released her
hand she drew a deep, long breath of relief
and dropped somewhat limply into the chair
opposite that which Frost was carefully
arranging for his master.
She glanced at the man quickly. Deft,
capable, unobtrusive, he had a hand beneath
his master's elbow and was lowering him into
his seat. It struck Lee with sudden force how
stiff and slow of movement Jason Smithers
was; she was aware almost of a pang of dis-
may. Somehow she had not seemed to notice
it very much before: if she had it had not
affected her in any degree personally.
With the passing of weeks and the new
interest and excitement which had been
crowded into her days, the memory of the
few brief hours on Ruff's Island with Denham
Carson had worn fine. There had been no
one with whom to contrast Jason Smithers.
Now there was. Once more Carson had been
hurled into her life, as it were, out of a clear
sky. Once more the impression of his vivid
personality was strong upon her. Once more
the queer, quick charm of his smile, the boy-
ish straightness of his eyes dominated her
thoughts.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 141
Just what his appeal was to her she did not
know. Certainly, in part, it was his youth,
his strength, his virility. For the rest—
She jerked herself away from her own
thoughts with a startled upward glance as Jason
Smithers's voice came to her. He was peering
at her through his smoked spectacles, blinking
quickly.
"I hope you were not disturbed last night,"
he said. "Frost tells me there was a scare—
burglars, or something of the sort; that you
were alarmed?"
His tone was at once irritable and solici-
tous. Lee, after that first quick glance,
applied herself to the task of pouring coffee,
and did not look up again. She answered a
little hurriedly.
"I 'm afraid I was in a measure responsible
for the scare. I thought I heard a noise
downstairs and came down—I expect my
switching on the lights made the men think
there was something wrong here at the house.
Was there "—she forced herself to ask the
question steadily—" any one, after all?"
Mr. Smithers stirred the coffee Frost set
beside his plate, and looked up at him.
"Well, Frost?"


142 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"We did not find any one, sir. It is quite
probable that a tramp sheltered in the garage
or stable loft, and slipped out when he
thought there would be no one about. I feel
convinced there is no cause for further appre-
hension, sir."
Again Lee's lashes lifted, and she gave the
servant a quick look from under them. His
face was as expressionless as his voice, and
his attention was entirely with his master.
Once more Lee experienced a feeling of relief,
and relaxed, leaning back comfortably in her
high oak chair. Mr. Smithers blinked at her
benignly.
"I hope you feel satisfied on that point,
my dear?" he observed, and she started,
making a quick gesture.
"Quite," she assured him, with a rather
nervous laugh.
He nodded, then dismissed Frost. With
the quiet closing of the door Lee's uneasy
shyness returned to her. She dreaded, sud-
denly, and for the first time, being alone
with him. She was conscious of a distressing
sense of guilt, of deception; and while she
felt his eyes upon her face she avoided meet-
ing them.


144 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
well. I 'm sorry, and I hope you were n't
disturbed. I 'd no idea even that you had
returned."
"God bless the girl!" Smithers's voice was
still more testy, and he applied marmalade
liberally to his toast and butter with shaky
fingers. "What sort of hours do you think
I keep? I only drove into a neighbouring
village to see a man on business—going
abroad to-day, or something of the sort, so
could n't wait. I was back soon after you
went to your room. I did n't let you know, as
I'da touch of gout and I 'm devilish irritable
when I 'm not up to the mark. By the way,
I hope Frost made my excuses adequately?
You must have thought my leaving you to
dine alone last night was rather extraordi-
nary. It occurred to me afterwards that I
ought to have explained matters myself—
that you might be offended?"
He peered at her somewhat anxiously, and
again Lee's nervous hands fluttered out in a
hurried movement.
"But of course not!" she declared. "Frost
made things perfectly clear, and I quite
understood."
Mr. Smithers beamed.


146 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
sciousness of guilt, of deception, was upon
her anew; and she was deeply touched. When
at last she looked up there were tears in her
eyes. She tried to speak, but found it, at that
moment, impossible to frame words that
were suitable. Her husband spared her the
necessity. With a final pressure he relin-
quished her fingers and leaned back in his
chair.
"There, there! That 's all right, my dear!
We 11 quit being sober till there 's need for it
—which I sincerely hope there never will be.
Ride, by all means; and don't let me keep you
if you 've finished your own breakfast. I
like to read my paper over my last cup of
coffee. I expect I shall have got through
with the news by the time you 're ready to
start. I '11 like to see how the mare carries
you."
He passed his empty cup to Lee as he
spoke. It rattled in the saucer, and watching
the white, unsteady fingers, the girl knew a
fresh pang at the recurring signs of age in
this man; a fresh, faint dismay—a sense of
oppression.
She filled the coffee-cup in silence, and, ris-
ing, came with it to his side, setting it down


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 147
beside his plate. Her own mood bewildered
her. A warm gratitude towards him for his
kindliness, his understanding, and the quiet
tact with which he had made more easy this
first embarrassing meal together in newly
intimate surroundings warred with a rising
revolt—an almost overwhelming desire to
escape, to undo that which she had done.
It would pass presently, she knew. But
it frightened her while it lasted. She had not
expected to feel like this; she had dreamed of
no stirring of regret. But the events of the
preceding night had changed her outlook
upon the future. In spite of her fierce efforts
to forget him, Denham Carson's face kept
rising before her eyes—his last words seemed
to ring in her ears:
"This is n't' good-bye,' you know! We 're
going to meet again!"
She turned rather abruptly towards the
door, pausing the next moment as Smithers
spoke.
"Frost has put the papers at your end of
the table, my dear. Will you give them to
me before you go?"
Lee reached out a long arm for them and
picked them up. But she did not give them


148 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
to him. Instead she stood quite still, even as
she had stood once before, staring at black
headlines above a familiar photograph and
Denham Carson's name.
For an instant her vision blurred; her
heart leaped, then seemed to grow still.
Breathlessly, utterly forgetful of Jason Smith-
ers's presence, of what he might think, she
began to read.
DENHAM CARSON IN LONDON
Denham Carson, the American murderer who
escaped recently, and who was believed to have
contrived to make his way to England, was seen
twice in London yesterday. The first occasion
was in the morning, in a quiet street backing a
square of fashionable houses. A working-man
passing him was struck by his likeness to the
photograph of Carson published in the various
newspapers some weeks ago. Unfortunately the
man did not attempt to detain him, but went in
search of a policeman, and in spite of the fact
that there was one quite near, upon their return
there was no trace of the wanted man. It is
something of a mystery how he contrived to
get out of sight so quickly, as the street is a.
long one, with the very high walls of the outer
premises of the square houses upon one side, in
all of which the gates were found to be securely
%


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 149
locked, and a row of smaller houses upon the
other. The street was almost empty at the time,
and no one else appears to have noticed Carson.
But the workman's description tallies absolutely
in every detail with that of the murderer, and
there is little or no doubt that it was he. . . . Later
he was recognised by several people at a popular
restaurant; but again contrived to get out and
away before an alarm was given. And again it
would appear that there was something of a
mystery in his complete disappearance. Accord-
ing to all statements he was not recognised until
leaving the restaurant, although he had made no
attempt at all at disguise. He walked out of the
place so quietly that no one realised he was gone
until it was too late. Once outside he seemed
to vanish. The police, however, are hopeful of
tracing him and effecting his arrest within the
next twenty-four hours—
"What in the world is the matter, child?"
Jason Smithers's voice, a shade brusque and
impatient, roused Lee violently to a realisa-
tion of her surroundings. With a little gasp
she thrust the newspapers into his out-
stretched fingers.
"I—why, nothing—" she steadied herself
for a moment with her hand against the
table's edge. "I was—just interested—"
She knew that she spoke shakily, and that


ISO THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
her face was white. Jason, however, paid no
haed. With the paper held close to his eyes
he was reading the paragraph she had just
perused.
"Humph! The Carson case cropped up
again!. . . By Gad! But it 's outrageous!
Outrageous, the way the police let a man walk
away right under their noses! Dunderheads,
that 's what they arel Drivelling dunder-
heads! If they had n't been utterly incompe-
tent they 'd have arrested him before he 'd
been in England two days! Disgraceful, I
call it! No protection in the arm of the law
at all!"
He thumped the paper violently with an
indignant hand, glaring at Lee truculently.
She looked at him vaguely, only half compre-
hending what he was saying, but feeling
grateful for the explosion in that it gave
her time to recover herself. Smithers, labo-
riously continuing the paragraph, snorted
anew:
"—■ Hope to effect an arrest within twenty-
four hours,' indeed! I should hope so, too!"
Lee turned away rather abruptly, crossing
to the hearth. Her face had hardened ever so
slightly, her eyes were grown brighter.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 151
Vaguely, within her, some instinct of defence
was rising.
She spoke quickly, almost before she quite
knew what she was about to say:
"But, perhaps—he is not guilty—"
Her voice came faintly. Mr. Smithers made
an abrupt movement that sent a fork clatter-
ing to the ground, and laid down his news-
paper. His face was curiously blank; his
tone so sharp when he spoke, that Lee started.
"Not guilty! Good Gad, Lee! What are
you talking about? He 's been tried, has n't
he? And imprisoned? As far as I can make
out it's by the merest miracle he escaped the
extreme penalty! Not guilty? What the
devil else should he be?"
"There was no—real proof—"
Again something within her drove her,
unwillingly, to a defence of Carson that was
half defiant.
Mr. Smithers thumped the table vigorously.
"God bless my soul, Lee! Are you going
to tell me that you 're in sympathy with the
fellow?"
His voice was profoundly shocked. Lee,
flushing deeply, let her hands fall to her sides
and turned slowly to face him. Her eyes


152 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
looked unnaturally dark and troubled, but
they met his steadfastly.
"As much," she declared quietly," as I am
in sympathy with any creature that is
hunted! I don't ride to hounds, you know,
for that reason!"
She was crossing the room as she spoke.
As she passed him she stooped to pick up the
fork, and smiled at him half wistfully, with
a sort of faint apology. Mr. Smithers cleared
his throat with unnecessary noise, and blinked
rapidly.
"God bless my soul!" he ejaculated. And
again, as the door closed upon her—" God
bless my soull"


154 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Perhaps because of this, and a sense of
guilt that still lingered, she gave Jason Smithers
a good deal more of her time and company
than otherwise she might have done. At first
he had appeared surprised, then flattered and
pleased. He roused himself to enter into her
moods and the spirit of her desires with an
eagerness which touched and warmed her
heart towards him.
There were nights, in the pink glow of
candles and firelight, with just Frost in
attendance at the table when the halting hesi-
tancy left his speech, his stooped shoulders
seemed to straighten, and his eyes to gleam
in defiance of the smoked glasses that blurred
them; nights when he renewed a little of that
lost youth of his which he had so reluctantly
let go; nights when, over a perfectly served
dinner, he recalled interesting stories to tell
her, or discussed with her their favourite
books, and later, alone in the drawing-room
with her, sat in the shadows while she played
to him, and sometimes sang, in her throaty,
sweet, rather weak voice.
There were mornings when he watched her,
with a wistfulness she sensed, riding away on
the red mare down the drive; and late, misty


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 155
afternoons when he walked with her, stiffly,
under the dripping trees.
An intimacy grew between them which even
the girl found more than merely pleasant.
It was comforting to be loved and cared for.
It reminded her of the glad old days when
she and her father had taken their pleasures
together. She knew something of the same
warmth of well-being now.
Jason Smithers needed her. He gave her
much, but she returned it with her constant
companionship, her sweetness, and her youth.
She had swept his days bare of loneliness; as,
curiously enough, he had swept hers.
Only on occasions now did she think of the
ties which bound her with shrinking. For
the most part they lay lightly upon her; and
at all times Jason Smithers's affection was
unobtrusive. It was not difficult to be happy
under such circumstances, and when, a week
later than had been expected, Terry came to
them for her visit, she found Lee with
brighter eyes and pinker cheeks than she had
ever known her.
She regarded her for a few minutes consid-
eringly, then came quickly across to her
where she sat, knees hunched, slim arms


156 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
encircling them, upon a squat, puffed satin
and brocade cushion before the glowing log
fire, and stooping laid two firm brown hands
upon her shoulders.
"Lord, Lee!" she ejaculated, with a greater
depth than usual in her gay voice, " but it 's
good to see you again—especially looking as
you are now! It strikes me that being Mrs.
Jason Smithers has done you good!"
Lee coloured a little, but her eyes smiled.
Terry gave her an ecstatic squeeze.
"Then things really are working all right?"
she demanded. "You 're still happy—have
n't begun to—to be sorry?"
There was the faintest note of anxiety in
the young voice; the red-brown eyes were
mercilessly searching. For one brief second
Lee turned her own away from them; unex-
pectedly the memory of Denham Carson
stirred and shook her. A sharp pain that was
almost physical stabbed at her heart and was
gone, followed by a surge of remorse that was
almost tenderness as she thought of the queer,
crotchetty old man who was her husband.
Slowly, resolutely she met Terry's gaze,
and her lips lifted in a fine, faint smile that
was not without sweetness.


158 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"And mother 's having a gorgeous time
just now. You 've been much too generous,
Lee. She does n't deserve it, and it only
encourages her extravagance. But she certainly
is enjoying herself. She 's taken to enter-
taining quite a good deal, and is always
collecting new people about her. . . . But
you really ought n't to do it, Lee. She 's
such an ungrateful little cat!"
She let her fanning skirts settle about her,
and laughed at Lee's half-startled, half-
reproving expression.
"But I don't want to shock Smithy, or
scandalise Frost, so I '11 let down my evening
frock a couple of inches. By the way, I
suppose Haines is still here?"
The tone was disinterested, but a deeper
rose burned for a moment in her cheeks. Lee
nodded.
"I don't know what Mr. Smithers would
do without Frost and Haines! I think he
would feel utterly lost." She laughed, and
Terry gave a sigh of satisfaction.
"That's a good thing—that Haines is here,
I mean. You see, I 've a horrible suspicion
that Toby, the terrier, has mange, and if so
he '11 have to be isolated, poor dear, and I 'd
x


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 159
like Haines to look after him. If you don't
mind "—she glanced at the clock—" I think
I '11 slip along with him to the garage at once
—there 's half an hour before dinner."
She was gone with her whirlwind impet-
uosity; to reappear as dinner was announced
still surreptitiously battling with the fasten-
ing of her belt.
Her toilet had obviously been hastily made,
and the front of her frock was decidedly
longer than the back; but she was flushed
and smiling, and unusually bright-eyed.
She had found Haines, and, superbly ignor-
ing the incidents of their recent drive to town,
had immediately enlisted his sympathy and
services for the terrier. After which she had
made a brief inspection of the little black mare
awaiting her in the stables, and had returned
to the house only a few minutes before the
dinner hour.
Jason Smithers greeted her warmly, and
throughout the meal she chattered gaily and
unceasingly, with an animation which seemed
to have increased even since her arrival. Over
the prospect of her riding lessons she waxed
especially enthusiastic, and drifted from this
subject to a collection of droll descriptions


160 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
of her various adventures in driving the big
Rolls-Royce.
"I don't know what I should do without
it!" she declared. "Butler looks after it for
me, of course, but I never take him out with
me now if I can help it except at night. He 's
so awfully Scotch, is n't he? I don't believe
he 's ever exceeded the speed limit in his
life!"
She paused to make a hearty attack upon
her sweet, then went on:
"I drive perfectly, now. And it's awfully
handy having a car when one is perpetually
having guests. Patty Clay asked us down
soon after your wedding, Lee. Rather decent
of her, was n't it? She had a new man there
—an American—awfully nice chap!"
The pink deepened in her cheeks; a pair
of mischievous dimples came and went.
"We Ve seen quite a good deal of him
since. He was only at Patty's for a week-end
visit, and he drove back to town with mother
and me."
She dimpled again, and Lee looked at her
for a moment searchingly. Terry caught the
glance, and blushed.
"I rather like him," she confessed candidly.
-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 161
"He 's a sport, and never treats me like a
kid. We 've had some ripping rims in the car
together—Butler 'd have had heart-failure if
he 'd been with us!"
Jason Smithers chuckled, blinking across at
her indulgently. Lee looked a little thought-
ful. Terry was the least shade self-conscious,
and she had never seen her so before. It
startled her; made her realise how nearly
across the border of womanhood the girl was.
"What sort of boy is he?" she asked
gently; and Terry frowned.
"He is n't a boy. He is n't even really
young—perhaps forty, mother thinks. May-
be a bit more."
Lee checked a smile and a sigh. Smithers,
meeting her glance, passed a rueful hand
across his thick white hair. Terry proceeded
volubly.
"He 's fearfully attractive. I 'm not in-
terested in men as a rule, but he 's different.
He 's remarkably handsome, and, I should
think, as rich as you are!" This to Smithers.
She added, pulling grapes from their stalk,
and eating them childishly, stones and all,
"His name is Roland Gish! What on earth 's
the matter?"


162 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Frost, in the act of handing coffee which
had been ordered at the table, caught his
elbow sharply against his master's chair.
There was a tinkle of silver, a soft crash of
one of the shell-like cups on the thick carpet,
a startled mutter of apology from the man.
Lee glanced apprehensively at her husband.
He had not moved, and a deep frown was his
only indication of displeasure. She noticed
that his usually unsteady fingers were clasped
firmly upon the stem of his wineglass.
Terry, bewildered by something in his ex-
pression that was not merely annoyance at
Frost's clumsiness, exclaimed:
"Why? Have you heard of him? Do you
know him?"
Very slowly Mr. Smithers brought his
glance back to her face. He did not even
look at the distressed Frost.
"I do not know him," he returned. "But"
—he lifted his glass and deliberately drained
its contents—" yes. I have—heard of him!"


CHAPTER XIV
Terry's riding lessons commenced the next
day, and proceeded highly satisfactorily.
Haines was, she discovered, a superb horse-
man as well as a careful and efficient
instructor.
At the end of a week the paddocks were
forsaken for the roads. Terry, absolutely
in her element, glowed with enjoyment and
enthusiasm. Haines, who was her attendant
always, and who had apparently utterly for-
gotten the Richmond incident, appeared to
know even more about horses than he did
about cars.
Upon reflection Terry decided that he
seemed less like a servant. In his riding kit
he might very easily have been a man of her
own world; and perhaps it was this which
caused her subtly to change her attitude
towards him. On horseback, out in the sting-
ing freshness of the open, it was difficult to
remember that they were not equals. Terry
did not try. She was perfectly content with


164 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
things as they were, and was enjoying her-
self immensely.
Three weeks later, when Christmas was
almost upon the world again, Teresa Dorice
wrote to her stepdaughter. She commenced
with trivialities, finishing characteristically:
... I shall be all alone at Christmas, and
this flat, though convenient ordinarily, is too
small for any sort of entertaining. I suppose you
will have a house-party? If so, can I come and
bring one or two people with me? I 've heard
such a lot about Brookbridge, and of course I
want to see your home there. . . . Let me know
quickly, as I shall have to arrange things accord-
ingly. I hope you 're not spoiling Terry. . . .
Lee went in search of her husband and put
the letter into his hand. He looked up at her
after he had perused it, raising his brows.
"You must do exactly as you like," he told
her. "I shall be delighted, of course, to wel-
come Mrs. Dorice and any friends she cares
to bring, if you wish it, too. Personally, I
like a houseful at Christmas, and there is
plenty of room here."
He gave the letter into her hand, holding
it for a moment in a warm clasp. He sat in a
deep leather armchair before the fire, his long


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 165
cane propped beside him, a book on his knee.
It struck the girl suddenly that he looked
very lonely, and her eyes softened. He met
their glance and smiled.
"You 're quite happy?" he asked, and she
made a quick movement of assent.
"I should be very ungrateful and hard to
please if I were not!" she said gently. She
did not try to disengage her hand, and after
a moment he lifted it and held it against his
cheek. Then, with a sigh, he let it go.
Lee looked down at him gravely. Upon an
impulse, colouring faintly, she asked:
"You are, too? I mean—I want to feel
that I have not failed you in any respect—
that—"
"I 'm happier," Smithers interrupted—and
the hesitant voice was suddenly firm and very
deep—" than I ever hoped I could be!"
There was a sincerity in his tone that
brought the colour again to Lee's face, a
brightening of relief to her eyes. She dwelt
no further on the subject, and stood beside
him speaking for a few minutes of quite ordi-
nary things. But before she left him she laid
a slender hand lightly, half caressingly, upon
his shoulder.


166 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
She wrote to Teresa that night, stating her
accommodation for guests and the number
she was already inviting, with the assurance
that Mrs. Dorice and any friends she cared to
bring would be welcomed whenever she chose
to come with them.
Two days later, following a belated tele-
gram, Mrs. Dorice arrived. Two women and
a man were with her, Patty Clay, a girl whom
Lee had met at the latter's house, and a man
whom she had never seen before.
He was a rather big man, well dressed,
immaculate, and decidedly handsome in a
dark, clean-shaven, rather heavy way. He
had splendid teeth and an ingratiating man-
ner, and bowed before Lee with a smiling
air of deprecation as Teresa airily presented
him.
“This is Mr. Gish, Lee. I expect Terry
has spoken to you of him. He has only
recently come to England, and has n’t very
many friends as yet. He was contemplating
a horribly lonely Christmas, so I brought him
along!”
Lee, giving Gish a cool hand, was aware of
a sudden, sharp movement behind her, and,
looking back over her shoulder, saw her hus-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 167
band half rise, then drop back into his chair
again. His face was in the shadow, but there
was a curious rigidity about him that she
could not fail to notice. Remembering his
odd manner when Terry had mentioned Gish
before, she proceeded to present the younger
man to him a shade uneasily.
Smithers acknowledged it with an unsmil-
ing, courteous bending of his white head. His
hands were occupied in fumbling for his cane.
Behind his smoked glasses Lee saw a momen-
tary quick gleam of unwonted keenness.
Then, rosy, bright-eyed, and tempestuous
Terry whirled into the room, and with a
Squeal of delight precipitated herself upon
Roland Gish.
“What an utterly ripping surprise!” she
exclaimed. Then, having greeted her mother
and the other two women, she flung her hard
little hat into a chair and herself into another.
“I simply must have my tea before I get out
of this habit!” she declared; and with some-
thing like relief Lee moved to her place to
dispense it.
She was puzzled, and, watching Terry and
Gish, not altogether satisfied. She noticed
that Jason Smithers was watching them too,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 169
question, and Terry gave her attention once
more to her tea and Gish.
Later, visiting Toby in his cosy quarters
in the garage, she found Haines dressing him.
He looked up eagerly.
"He 's almost well now," he told her.
"You '11 be able to have him with you in a
week, I expect."
"Good!" Terry bent to pat the terrier's
head. "You 're a wonder, Haines. Oh, by
the way—you won't need to ride with me
to-morrow. Mr. Gish rides, and will be com-
ing with me—we '11 want the horses about
eight. I want to show him. What is the
matter, Haines? You look as if you 'd swal-
lowed a peppermint ball!"
Her tone was aggrieved as well as startled.
Haines looked as she had only seen him look
once before, and instinctively she drew back.
"Gish!" he repeated slowly. "Not Roland
Gish?" Then, as she nodded, staring
blankly: "Good God! Do you mean to say
that Roland Gish is here—staying up at the
house?"
Terry reared her small head aggressively.
"Really, Haines! And why not?"
"Why not!" Haines choked, then he flung


170 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
away, taking a couple of swift strides towards
the door. "Good God! Why not? Because
he 's a rotten cad—a bounder—a cur! Because
he 's got one of the worst reputations of any
man in the whole of the United States!
Because he is n't fit to breathe the same air
as decent men and women! God! And he 's
under Jason Smithers's roof!—talking of
riding with you—"
He stopped abruptly. His face was suffused
with dark blood, his eyes aflame. Abruptly,
before she realised it, he laid his two hands
upon her shoulders holding her in a grip of
steel.
"See here," he said hoarsely, ignoring her
furious effort to free herself, and the indigna-
tion of her face, "let me see Roland Gish
within two yards of you and—and I '11 break
every bone in his abominable body!"
He loosed her, breathing hard. Then,
stooping, he gathered up Toby and strode to
the narrow stairway leading to the rooms
above. Halfway up he looked down at her.
"Don't forget!" he said, in an odd, strained
sort of way as though he still found self-
control difficult. "I mean it!"
And was gone.


CHAPTER XV
It was characteristic of Terry that she hesi-
tated not a moment in going to Jason Smithers
with her complaint against Haines. Boiling
over with indignation and a sense of outrage,
she felt that she hated the man and hoped
vindictively that his master would make him
smart for his intolerable impertinence.
How had he dared, she demanded furiously
of herself, to speak to her so—to treat her
as though he was her equal? She could feel
the touch of his strong hands upon her
shoulders still as she precipitated herself into
Mr. Smithers's presence, and shrugged them
violently, disgustedly, as if to rid herself of it.
Lee was with her husband, and listened,
shocked and bewildered, to her stepsister's
storm of words. But the old man himself
heard her with unruffled equanimity.
He was silent for a moment or two when
she had finished. Lee, watching him a little
anxiously, could make nothing whatever of
his expression, yet she somehow felt that in-
wardly he was not so composed as he would
appear. He met her dismayed glance, and


172 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
smiled at her. Then he looked again at
Terry.
"Is that all, child?" he asked, in his in-
dulgently gentle way, and Terry made a wide,
fierce gesture.
"All!" she exploded indignantly. "Is n't
it enough? Because Haines is an old and
trusted servant of yours is he to indulge in
insufferable liberties and offer gross imper-
tinences to your guests? How dare he criti-
cise people who are under your roof—or my
actions? Because you allow him to swank
about doing nothing most of the time for all
the world as if he were a gentleman—"
"Terry!"
Lee's voice was gentle, but it held a note
of quiet command that checked Terry in spite
of her rage.
Mr. Smithers coughed slightly behind his
hand. One might almost have suspected that
he smiled, but his tone was absolutely serious
when he spoke.
"Perhaps," he said in his courteous way,
"you will find Frost for me, Terry, and tell
him to send Haines to me here immediately
after dinner."
Terry opened her lips, looked at him, and


174 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
I consider quite desirable in an intimate
acquaintance of a very young girl. That is
all. I feel quite sure you have too much com-
mon sense to bear me any malice for my plain
speaking—which, after all, must be forgivable
in an old man."
He blinked at her benevolently, nodded in
kindly dismissal, and after a brief instant of
hesitation the girl passed out of the room, still
flushed and in silence.
As the door closed upon her, Lee went
quickly to her husband's side. She, too, was
a little flushed, her soft eyes troubled.
"I 'm awfully sorry," she declared distress-
fully; "I had no idea of whom Teresa would
choose to bring with her. If I had I 'm afraid
I should not have interfered. I 've never
even heard of Mr. Gish before."
The old man lifted one of the slender hands
and patted it reassuringly.
"Tut! tut! There is nothing to bother
your pretty head about, my dear—nothing at
all. It is unfortunate that young Haines let
his feelings carry him away—I must, of
course, speak to him seriously about it. As
to Gish—"
He paused, and again Lee was aware of a


176 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
before she went to her own room. Smithers
appeared quite unruffled, and some of her
own anxiety subsided. She dressed quickly
and came to him again at Frost's summons.
He had already dressed, and was standing
leaning on his long cane. With his white
hair he made an impressive figure, despite his
bowed shoulders and the continual shaking of
his hands, and the girl, meeting his eyes,
smiled at him involuntarily.
She herself looked more lovely than she
guessed. She was wearing white, and was
without ornament of any sort. Smithers's
eyes flickered as they rested on her, and he
slipped a hand suddenly into his pocket.
When he drew it forth a long string of pearls
hung, gleaming mistily in the candlelight,
from his fingers.
Lee had halted on the threshold. The old
man came to her slowly, in his stiff way, the
hand holding the pearls outstretched.
“My Christmas present, Lee,” he said.
And added, simply, but with a warm satisfac-
tion in his tone that brought the rose flooding
to her cheeks, “I 'm glad you ’re wearing
white!”
He threw the string of pearls lightly over


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 179
sioned lips touched his cheek. Then, at the
sound of voices without, she turned quickly
aside and moved towards the door.
At it she paused and looked back at him.
In one hand, caressingly, she held the pearls.
She looked down at them, and up again,
smiling.
"They 're lovely!" she declared softly, and
was gone.
Mr. Smithers stood without moving. He
had not altered his position when Frost came
to him quietly from the dressing-room beyond.
Nor did he look round. But he spoke after a
moment, testily.
"Frost," he said, with an irritable jerk of
his stooped shoulders, "Haines is a fool! A
damned fool! . . ."
He paused for a moment, and straightened
himself stiffly. Under his shaggy white brows
he glared at himself frowningly in the candle-
lit mirror. His cane had fallen to the ground.
Frost picked it up and gave him a sharp
glance.
"A damned fool!" Mr. Smithers repeated;
and added, with a sort of grim impatience, as
he took the cane from the man's hand, " And
so am I!"


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 181
Observing Gish carefully, she was bound to
admit that the man was good-looking, pleas-
ant, and possessed of a breezily jolly manner
which was not without fascination.
Lee felt an impatient, rising anger against
her careless, butterfly stepmother. She had
always been hopelessly indiscriminate in her
haphazard collecting of chance acquaintances.
Before it had not mattered so much; now
Terry was growing up—and Terry was im-
pressionable.
She voiced something of this, impulsively,
to Mrs. Dorice a few days later. She had
been riding with the two—a somewhat silent
and unobtrusive, but none the less observant,
chaperon. On the ride homeward the two
had almost seemed to forget her presence.
Terry, a vivid picture of youth and health and
elfin loveliness, was provocative, alluring; the
man's manner towards her was caressing,
more than ever possessive.
These things had troubled Lee. Still more
was she troubled by an incident which
occurred just after they had entered the drive
gates. Haines, walking, was coming towards
them. Terry was so intent upon something that
Gish was telling her that she had not even


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 183
"Teresa, is Mr. Gish staying for the whole
of your visit?"
Mrs. Dorice stared. "My dear girl, I
suppose so—I asked him for the whole of it.
Why?"
Lee looked down at her dusty boots, then
up, suddenly and directly, into her step-
mother's eyes.
"I hoped he was n't," she said quietly.
"For one thing, Mr. Smithers does not like
him; nor do I. I believe—from what I have
heard—that he is not altogether a desirable
acquaintance."
"Really!" Mrs. Dorice sat up with a jerk.
Lee brought her brows together, making a
little impatient movement.
"I 'm sorry, Teresa. I have not forgotten
that Mr. Gish is our guest, or that I asked you
to bring whom you pleased. I know nothing
about him personally; I know, too, that prob-
ably you know as little. . . . You never do
know very much about the friends you make,
Teresa. Generally it has n't mattered. This
time it does."
She was still looking levelly into Mrs.
Dorice's eyes, and she went on deliberately
before the other could voice a protest.


184 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I mean—because of Terry!"
"Because of Terry?—" Mrs. Dorice's
voice was shrill. Then she began to laugh.
"My dear Lee! What bee have you got in
your bonnet now?"
Again Lee made a movement of her
hands.
"Mr. Gish," she said quietly, "is paying
Terry far too much attention."
Teresa gasped. For a moment she seemed
bereft of speech. Then she pushed her
cushions away from her and got to her feet.
"I guess you 're crazy, Lee!" she retorted.
"I never heard that a man worth what
Roland Gish is worth could pay a girl too
much attention! Unless "—with another
shrill laugh—" you 're under the impression
that those attentions are not serious. Be-
cause I can assure you that they are. I
know the signs. Besides, he has as good as
said so to me."
Lee's fine brows contracted.
"It is the fact that he 's serious that
troubles me!" she returned. "Terry 's far too
wholesome and sensible to be carried away by
a mere flirtation. As it is—oh, Teresa!"
She stretched out a slim hand in sudden


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 185
appeal to the other woman, her beautiful eyes
very earnest, very troubled.
"Can't you see that it 's all wrong!" she
went on swiftly. "Terry 's so young. And
Mr. Gish is a man of the world—a man
whose—whose reputation is not altogether
enviable. Who—"
"That's enough!" Mrs. Dorice's voice was
harsh, her pansy eyes agleam, her face unbe-
comingly flushed. "I don't know if you 're
aware of it, but you 're positively insulting—
not only to Mr. Gish, but to me. I can tell
you I 'm getting sick, sorry, and tired of your
airs, anyway! It was bad enough when I had
to put up with them. Now I don't—and I 'm
not going to. It strikes me that old Grandpa
Smithers has succeeded in making you an
even greater prig than you were before. . . ,"
Lee's face flushed hotly at the sneer. She
opened her lips quickly, then closed them
again and, turning on her heel, moved to the
door. Teresa's voice followed her.
"Terry 's old enough to know her own
mind, anyway. And if Roland Gish wants to
marry her and she '11 have him, I should feel
inclined to go down on my knees and thank
the good Lord for it! Terry has looks of a


186 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
sort, but she 's not a girl to appeal to every
man, and I certainly never hoped I 'd get her
off my hands so early. See here, Lee,"—the
shrill voice sharpened and grew hard,—" I
don't want any interference from you. I
won't put up with it!"
Lee did not answer. Outside in the wide
corridor she stood for a moment uncertainly.
From the hall below there came the sound of
laughter and voices. Slowly she moved to
the stairs, and, standing against the oaken
bannisters, looked down. Tea-tables were
being set before the huge hearth. Terry,
still in her habit, was standing at Roland
Gish's side, her face uptilted, eyes and mouth
mischievous and mirthful. The man was
looking down at her with veiled eyes, and Lee
studied him, earnestly.
From this distance he looked debonair,
handsome, rather attractive—a fine figure of
a man in his riding kit. But she remembered
his eyes, and certain lines of dissipation about
a mouth that was very hard and even cruel
when it did not smile, and she drew a long
sigh.
She wondered, in troubled fashion, what
there was actually against the man. For a


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 187
moment she was almost tempted to seek
Jason Smithers and ask him. So far some
unexplainable instinct had withheld her from
doing so. She had sensed that, always, in
Roland Gish's presence her husband had
not been himself—that he had restrained his
feelings with an effort that was almost violent,
and she had hesitated to add to an agitation
at which, she knew, he would not, for the
world, have had her guess.
Now, as she prepared slowly to go down-
stairs, a step sounded behind her and she
looked round.
Frost stood at her elbow.
“If you please, ma'am, Mr. Smithers would
like to speak to you in his room. He has been
indisposed since luncheon, ma'am—a return
of the gout, I think.”
Lee turned back at once, a real sympathy
in her eyes, a little of anxiety. Frost opened
the door of Jason Smithers's room for her and
disappeared. Smithers was in a deep chair
at the shadowy end of the room, his foot
propped up. She went to him quickly, laying a
light hand upon the long, nervous one on the
chair arm.
She felt it quiver for an instant, then, to


188 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
her surprise, he jerked it almost violently
away. He spoke abruptly, irritably:
"Don't! I hate being touched when I 'm
111! This damn gout—" The words ended in
an inarticulate growl.
Lee let her hand fall and stood waiting.
"I 'm sorry," the old man said after a
moment, still testily, but with faint contrition.
"But it's damnable being tied here by the leg!
Damnable, to watch youth all about one and
to—and to feel a cripple. . . . There, child!
Don't take any notice of me. I 'm like a bear
with a sore head. Did Frost tell you I want
you to do something for me?"
Lee shook her head. Smithers moved his
swathed foot gingerly, and swore softly, apol-
ogising an instant later.
"I'ma grumpy old curmudgeon, child! But
I hate inaction. . . . Now, then. I was
going into Brookbridge village this evening
after dinner—meeting the nine o'clock from
London. There '11 be one of my men of busi-
ness on it with some important papers—devil-
ish important papers—that I ought to deal
with to-night. I could send Frost for them,
but I dare n't—can't spare him when I 'm like
this. And my man will only give them up to


CHAPTER XVII
For the space of some seconds, utterly taken
aback, Lee remained dumb. Then she
stiffened among her furs, turning eyes of
amazed indignation upon the grimly set pro-
file of the chauffeur.
"Really, Haines! You 're forgetting your-
self unpardonably! I am not accustomed to
discussing either my sister's or my guests'
affairs with my servants."
There was icy rebuke in her voice, and
Haines flushed dully, but for a moment met
her eyes steadily. Then he took one strong,
nervous hand off the wheel to make a swift,
sweeping gesture.
"I guess we '11 cut that out. I have n't
always been a servant, and I 'm not meaning
to take liberties. This thing 's serious—deadly
serious. It seems to me you 're the only
person I can appeal to. Your sister 's heading
for disaster and certain damnation—and I
reckon there is n't any too much time to pull
her up!"


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 193
Again his hand swept out violently. Again
his eyes flashed a glance into hers, only now
they held a desperate appeal.
"For God's sake, Mrs. Smithers, let me
say what I 've got to say, and take it in the
spirit in which it is meant. I tell you, I know
what I 'm talking about. I know Gish!"
Lee heard his teeth grit for an instant, the
harsh breath he drew through them. Gasping
a little, she relaxed. She was utterly bewil-
dered, but her sense of outrage and resentment
was fast slipping from her. There was a
deadly earnestness about the man at her side
which impressed her strongly; vaguely she
realised that he was speaking as one of her
own kind might have spoken, also she was
aware of a subtle change in his tone and his
accent. She spoke abruptly:
"You are an American?"
Haines looked round at her quickly, then
away to the road ahead of them. She fancied
that he hesitated before replying, but when
he did it was tersely.
"Yes. And, as an American, I know a
good bit more about Gish and his reputation
than folks over here. He 's an out-and-out
rotter, a wrong 'un to the core. He is n't fit


194 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
to breathe the same air as a decent woman.
His touch would pollute the lowest!”
He drew a hard breath that was almost a
gasp and stopped. Lee stirred among her
furs uneasily, but she no longer sought to stay
him. Her eyes were fixed upon his face but
dimly discernible save when they passed a
light; her hands were clasped tightly in her
lap.
“He 's rich; but the way he 's made his
money would n’t bear investigation. I guess
he 's ruined more lives and wrecked more
homes than any man of his time. If you folks
could know him for what he really is—know
one half of what he 's done—you ’d hound
him out of society, back to the scum where he
belongs. I’m speaking strongly, but I know
what I’m talking about. He wants shooting .
—like a dangerous, unclean beast!”
Lee gasped anew. Her eyes were wide and
dark with anxiety and a growing horror.
Haines was labouring under very strong emo-
tion; every harshly uttered word carried con-
viction, and with a sudden feeling of sickness
she thought of Terry. Impulsively, almost
pleadingly, she leaned forward.
“Haines!” He turned, and she went on


196 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
that. He went to tell her she 'd got to give
up Gish or he 'd bring an action for divorce.
. . . You know what happened."
Lee did not answer. She had turned her
fur collar up about her face as if to hide its
deadly pallor, and the hands that held it were
trembling. A little way ahead of them
gleamed the station lights. She saw them as
through a mist, heard Haines's voice as if from
a great distance away.
"That 's one of the things Gish did —yet
here he is, an honoured guest—fooling round
that kid sister of yours. Oh, my God!"
They glided through the station gates.
Haines wrenched the wheel round, brought
the car to the platform entrance, and stopped
the car. He sprang out, and as he opened the
door for her the lights shone full upon his
face. Looking down at it, Lee forgot herself,
and the shock the mention of Denham Carson
had given her. It was drawn and strained
and white, and there was that in the clear
eyes so nearly like agony that she gave a
little, startled murmur.
"You—you '11 do something?" Haines
asked. "You '11 stop this damnable thing
going any further? Terry will listen to you


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 197
—believe you—only she 's such a kid!—"
His voice broke oddly. The roar of the
approaching express sounded suddenly. Very
slowly Lee stepped out of the car. Her eyes
were still on his, in them was a startled ques-
tion, a deep distress. He met them and smiled
a crooked little smile.
"She 's always been Terry to me—in my
heart!" he said simply. "I 've a man's feel-
ings—and she twisted me round her little
finger from the very first. I—love her!"


CHAPTER XVIII
Lee collected a thick packet, sealed and
securely tied with red tape from a little, be-
spectacled, deferential man, who accepted her
assertion that she was Smithers's wife without
question, with her explanation of the latter's
absence. In less than five minutes she was in
the car again, rolling homeward through the
frosty night.
She did not speak to Haines, but now and
again she glanced at him with troubled eyes.
Beneath her perplexity and distress, her hor-
ror at what he had told her of Gish, she was
conscious of a new interest in him. The way
he had told his story had made an odd appeal to
her. And for the first time she realised that,
whatever the circumstances of his entering
her husband's service, he was, most distinctly,
not of the ordinary servant class.
Nevertheless, she was dismayed and per-
turbed to a degree at his declaration of his
regard for Terry. She was so occupied with
the whole problem that she did not notice the


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 199
gradual slowing down of the car until it came
to a sudden, jerky halt.
Then she looked up quickly. Haines was
still sitting with his hands on the wheel. It
struck her vaguely that he showed no surprise,
but after a moment he got out. She sat while
he made his investigations, glancing about
her. They were, she discovered, on the nar-
row road leading through the woods. The
trees reared themselves bleakly on either side
of it, stretching skeleton branches against the
shimmering dark.
Haines straightened himself presently, and
came back to her, a spanner in his hand.
"Engine trouble," he explained briefly.
"She won't budge another inch. It looks like
I '11 have to cut along back to the garage and
fetch another car. We '11 have to tow this
one home."
He glanced about him, swinging the span-
ner, and added, in answer to her dismayed
exclamation:
"I won't be long; but maybe you 'd best
take shelter in that hut down there." He
pointed suddenly to a hollow clearing below
them on their right. A faint light showed, as
from a half-hidden window. "Gamekeepers


200 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
use it sometimes at night—one of them will
be around somewhere sure, so you '11 be quite
safe and warm. I '11 see you down."
Lee hesitated for an instant, frowned, and
shrugged. She pulled her furs closer about
her and stepped into the slippery road. Haines
steadied her as they made their way through
the bracken. There came no answer to his
knock when they reached the hut, and he
lifted the latch and pushed the door open.
Lee, pausing on the threshold, glanced
about her. A hurricane lamp hung from a nail
on the wall, there were a few glowing embers
in a rough hearth, and the faint odour of to-
bacco-smoke hung about. Haines crossed to
the fire, poked it, glanced about him and
sniffed.
"One of the keepers here to-night, sure,"
he told her easily. "He '11 probably be back
in a few minutes. I '11 get back quick as I,
can."
He passed out and closed the door behind
him. Lee heard him crashing his way through
the bracken, then silence fell again. For
several minutes she stood looking about her,
with but a faint curiosity. Her thoughts were
far away, her mind wholly occupied with


CHAPTER XDC
Instinctively, almost wildly, Lee had strug-
gled to free herself. But with the meeting of
their lips she became still, as though, suddenly,
her strength had left her. She lay passive in
Carson's hold, with closed eyes, and as at last
he straightened himself, her head drooped
limply forward against his shoulder.
She was pitifully white; so white that he
gave an exclamation of mingled remorse and
anxiety, tightening his hold upon her.
"Lee!"
His voice was infinitely gentle, held at once
remorse and a caress. At the sound of it a
shuddering breath left her lips—her slender
body quivered. Impulsively Denham Carson
stooped his head and rested his cheek against
her soft hair.
"What a fool I am!" he said, in fierce self-
condemnation. "What a thoughtless fool—
to frighten you so! Lee—you 're not going
to faint?"


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 203
She stirred anew at that, caught desperately
at her self-control, and, straightening herself,
drew back. He did not try to hold her, but
let his arms drop to his sides and stood looking
at her. A little of the eager light had died out
of his face, the vividly blue eyes looked
troubled. Lee met them and the colour flooded
into her pale cheeks. Involuntarily she
lifted one hand, pressing the back of it against
those trembling lips his kisses had bruised
and scorched.
Yet the eyes that looked back into his
were neither angry nor resentful. They held
only a shrinking bewilderment and a rather
piteous questioning.
"No—no!" she answered his question me-
chanically; and added: " But—I don't under-
stand! How did you come here—?" She broke
off.
Carson replied swiftly, almost curtly:
"I 've been here all the time. Stumbled
across this place that night—you remember
—and stayed here ever since. I 've kept a
good lookout, of course—the keepers don't
come here often, and other folks scarcely ever.
It has n't been difficult to dodge them. And
it's as good a place as any to hide in. Besides"


204 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
—Lee looked away quickly from the deepen-
ing warmth of his eyes—" I wanted to be—
near you! I had to be!"
Lee drew a long breath, and smote her
hands together softly, despairingly.
"Oh," she whispered shakily, " but you 're
quite mad—quite mad!"
Carson laughed. It was a wholesome,
hearty, boyish sound that filled the whole
cabin.
"Sure! And so you 've told me before! As
I think I told you on another occasion—most
men who are very much in love are more or
less mad! . . ."
* Don't!"
She turned sharply away, reaching out for
her coat. But Carson stood between her and
the door, and he did not move. After a mo-
ment, weakly, she let her hand fall. Carson
swept his glance over her, from the averted
head and delicate profile to the absurd gold
brocade slipper that she was tapping nerv-
ously on the uneven boarding of the rough,
bare floor. The line of her long throat, the
drooping, slim shoulders and slender arms
shone warmly white in the leaping firelight.
Impulsively he went a step nearer.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 205
"I must," he said very low; and now there
was in his voice a hoarse note of passion that
made her fling him a swift, panic-stricken
glance. "I must! I do love you, Lee—I 've
loved you ever since that night on Ruff's
Island. . . ."
His outstretched hand touched her arm.
She caught her breath sharply, shaken by the
rising tempest of her own emotions. She was
incapable of very clear thought. She only
knew that beneath the deepening note of pas-
sion in his voice her heart was stirring and
throbbing wildly. She longed to break away
from his touch, to rush out into the night; but
she had to stay. She wanted to close her
hands over her ears and shut away the mad-
dening tenderness of his voice; but she had to
hear.
She knew, too, that presently she would
despise herself for her weakness, would lash
herself with scorn for her yielding. At the
moment the personality of the man dominated
her utterly—that, and something that was
growing and strengthening irresistibly within
herself.
"I had to be near you, Lee!" Carson spoke
again, his voice shaken, his eyes beginning to


206 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
glow anew. "Call it madness, folly, what you
will—I could n't go away. I had to see you
sometimes—hear your voice. . . . But being
near has made it harder to keep silent. Godl
How I Ve longed to say a little of what is in
my heart for you! How I 've longed to be
with you alone—to hold you close to me . . .
to kiss your lips!"
His fingers fastened upon her arm above
the dimpled elbow, tightened there, tensely.
His breath came unevenly, his voice was
husky.
"Above all," he went on," how I 've longed
to hear you say that you care, tool That you
love me, Lee—that you love me!"
"Ah!"
The word was a choked cry. She wrenched
her arm free and shrank back. There was
something of the wildness of desperation in
her eyes, the terror of a snared bird. To Car-
son it was a revelation that sent the blood
pounding hotly to his temples, and set him
shaking suddenly all over. Upon her little,
piteous cry there followed a silence that was
painful in its intensity. Carson broke it. He
spoke haltingly, stumblingly, yet on a quiver-
ing, rising note of triumph and eagerness.


208 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
and brought the blood flooding pitilessly up
over her throat and cheeks in a rose-red wave
that burned to her temples.
Even as she made an instinctive, panicky
gesture to thrust him from her there came
from without the faint note of a motor-car
horn. Lee stiffened where she sat; then with
a little gasp she strove to get to her feet.
"It 's Haines!" she whispered, as Carson's
arms refused to unclose. "You—you must
get away, quickly—oh, quickly!"
She was on her feet now, and the man rose
with her.
He still held her, his eyes clung to hers.
His lips were not altogether steady.
"I 've got to talk to you, Leel" he whis-
pered back, huskily. "There are things I
must say to you. . . . Promise you will come
here again, soon?"
The sound of the horn had ceased. Follow-
ing it came the unmistakable hurry and
stumble of heavy steps among the frosty
bracken.
Carson bent his head lower.
"Promise!" he urged. "Promise!"
Lee's lips were trembling. She closed her
eyes desperately against the pleading in his.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 209
When she opened them again, they were dark,
almost tragic with suffering and unwilling sur-
render.
"I—promise!" she said.


CHAPTER XX
Lee, her huge fur collar hiding all of her face
save her unnaturally wide eyes, delivered the
packet of papers into Frost's hands, and,
avoiding those rooms in which her guests were
congregated, went swiftly to her own.
Dropping into a chair, she sat staring at the
shadows in the faintly firelit darkness. She
had forgotten that she might be missed down-
stairs, had forgotten her husband, Terry, and
Haines . . . everything save Denham Car-
son's presence, the strength of his arms, and
the touch of his mouth upon hers.
She was stripped bare, to-night, of all pre-
tence, face to face with that truth which she
had refused to acknowledge, which she had
hidden half guiltily, but of which she had been
aware as long ago as that misty morning when
she had rowed herself away from Ruff's Island.
It was a truth that left her dazed and numb,
while it dominated her. She had forgotten the
black shadow that hung over Denham Carson.
She felt only as though the flame of his pas-
sion still enwrapped her, waking answering


212 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
the broad back of the brocaded chesterfield.
"Much better get into something warm and
cosy and stay here!" she advised. "They 're
all playing cards or dancing in the music-room
—you won't be missed. 'Sides, I want a quiet
chat with you, Lee. I never seem to get you
alone lately."
Lee sank back again among her cushions.
She shrank from the thought of going among
her guests in her present mood; yet she was
glad not to be alone. With an effort she con-
centrated her thoughts upon Terry and her
chatter, brought her mind back to the problem
of the girl and Roland Gish—and Haines.
Terry now was swinging one slim, silk-
stockinged leg and looking into the fire with-
a rather odd expression in her eyes. She was
still chattering, but fitfully, and with more
than her usual inconsequence. Lee watched
her with a shadow creeping into her face.
After a moment she spoke, a little hesitantly.
"Terry—I want to say something to you.
It—it's about Mr. Gish."
Terry looked up quickly. A little colour
had crept into her cheeks, the expression of
her eyes was defensive.
"I hope it's something nice!" she returned,


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 213
her clear young voice faintly shrill. "I like
Roly Gish—quite a good deal."
Lee's fine brows met. A sudden distaste
tilted her lips upward; the shadow in her eyes
deepened.
"I 'm sorry," she said steadily, " to hear it!
I don't. And—it seems to me—Mr. Gish's
feeling for you is more than liking."
Terry slid down from her perch and moved
slowly on to the hearth before Lee's chair.
Her brown head was flung up, her usually
merry mouth was a trifle compressed.
"You 're not being very nice, Leel . . .
What if it is?"
Lee got up. Her eyes met Terry's steadily.
"Just that he will try to make you think
that your feeling is the same—that you love
him. You don't love him, Terry?"
Despite the note of anxious interrogation
the words were uttered rather in assertion
than question. Terry wriggled a pair of slim
shoulders impatiently.
"But," she declared cheerfully, "I do!"
There was no tremor in the clear voice, no
added colour in the healthy, pretty face. The
red-brown eyes were wide, unembarrassed.
Lee looked deeply into them for several sec-


218 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
She hesitated, unconscious of the note of
reproach in her voice.
Smithers stirred and reached out a hand
to her. His lips twitched.
"I was a fool!" he said. "A selfish fool!
I ought to have thought—"
He stopped rather abruptly; then added:
"But something must be done. Terry must
not take so terrible a step. The man is
unspeakable—the utterest cad!"
"I know!" Lee's voice was weary. "But
Terry won't believe it. It would need some
time and a considerable amount of proof to
convince her—or other people—that he is
anything but what he appears. And any
attempt at interference would only precipi-
tate matters. If we are to prevent this mar-
riage, we shall have to go to work carefully."
Her husband opened his lips and closed
them again. Lee, standing beside him, pro-
ceeded to sketch briefly her interview of the
night before with Terry. Smithers listened
without comment, sitting with his chin
dropped forward, frowning fiercely.
"I blundered hopelessly," Lee added mis-
erably. There was a sound of tears in her
voice and he stirred uneasily.
-


220 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
gentle, as she caught her hands up over her
hot face. Then, in the other room, a step
sounded—on the threshold Frost coughed dis-
creetly; and, precipitately, Lee turned and
fled.
Lee spent a wretched, unrestful hour in
her own room. Later, making her way list-
lessly to the stairway, she encountered Teresa
Dorice at her room door. Her eyes were hard
and bright with anger; the unbecoming flush
that temper brought was hot in her cheeks.
Behind her Terry was standing. She, too,
was flushed, her mouth mutinous, her eyes
aflame with defiance. It needed but one glance
at both of them to tell Lee that something
had put Teresa out seriously, and that Terry's
inflammable temper had been fanned to fur-
nace heat and was wholly dominating her.
Interrogative, distressed, she paused, and
Mrs. Dorice lifted a clenched hand in which
was a crumpled note.
"I suppose," she said thickly, " this is your
doing!" Then, as Lee stared, "Read it!
Roland has just sent it up to us!"
Silently Lee took the paper and read:


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 221
Mr. Smithers regretfully requests Mr. Roland
Gish to make it convenient to leave Brookbridge
to-night. Mr. Gish's notoriety in the United
States of America has become known to Mr.
Smithers, which will doubtless be sufficient ex-
planation of his seeming inhospitality. . . .
As silently Lee gave the note back. The
distress in her eyes deepened; she looked
almost appealingly at Terry. But Teresa
spoke before the girl could.
"I 11 never forgive you for this, Lee—
never! I 've got a good deal piled up against
you, anyhow, and this about makes the limit!
And I '11 take care I get even with you for it
—somehow, some day—and with that inter-
fering, domineering, senile caricature of a hus-
band of yours! . . . For the rest, you might
as well know that when Roland leaves here
it will be to make arrangements for an im-
mediate marriage! Terry and I join him as
soon as we hear from him that he has the
licence! . . ."
Her voice caught and broke hysterically.
Terry, with a not too gentle hand, pulled her
back into the room. Lee, white-lipped but
composed, passed on, and down the stairs to
her waiting guests.
s


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 225
eyes were on her face. Something in their
gaze, something earnest, inexplicably pitying
and understanding, startled her. With his
next words her heart leaped, and seemed to
stop beating.
"Carson 's a white man all through!" he
said. "He would n't strike any woman—
like they said he did! . . ."
He turned away again. Lee moved to a
chair and sat down weakly. Without looking
at her Haines said:
"For Terry's own sake—if I need it—may
I rely on a little of your help?"
Lee answered him with stiff lips. "What
do you mean?"
There was an attempt at hauteur in her
manner now, but there was terror too—ter-
ror of what he might know, what his words
implied. He sensed it and came quickly back
to her. His young face was changed—he
emiled suddenly, rather wonderfully, and
again with that strange, subtle suggestion of
understanding. Then it hardened again, the
mouth grew grim.
"Just that Terry has got to be saved!"
he answered simply. And added, while she
waited, dumb:


226 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I guess—after all—it's up to me to take
a decisive hand in the game!"
There was something in his voice that
brought her glance quickly to his face—a deep
warmth, a grim determination, a little of
something oddly exulting. . . .
He met her eyes and smiled. The smile
was quite without mirth, but it brought a
blue flame to his own eyes that made her
blink. He was already at the door. In sud-
den apprehension Lee checked him.
"What are you going to do ...?"
He looked back. The flame was still in
his eyes.
"Employ the methods of the uncivilised
and primitive male!" he told her; and went.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 231
that made her wince inwardly. It was with
secret relief that she found that he still kept
to his own rooms save for a couple of hours
in the very early middle day. The old pleas-
ant, even happy intercourse with him was no
longer possible, and, wretchedly, every day
she told herself that the situation was getting
beyond her.
The house-party had broken up a few days
after Gish's departure. The attitude of both
Mrs. Dorice and Terry towards her was frigid,
and added to her discomfort, while her anxiety
concerning Terry's future was still acutely
real despite her own problem.
A little over a week later, Mrs. Dorice an-
nounced that she and Terry intended ter-
minating their visit the following day, adding
that they had heard from Roland Gish that
his affairs were smoothly settled.
Lee accepted the information without com-
ment, and with an inward consciousness of
utter impotence, and of vague discomfort
under Mrs. Dorice's unusually intent gaze.
More than once, of late, she had caught her
stepmother looking at her with an expression
in her eyes that had made her vaguely uneasy,
though she could not have said why.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 233
seems to be a theory it snapped off her assail-
ant's cuff when he struck her, fell on the
boards, and was trodden between them by
the people who found her, unnoticed. The
link is described as a particularly fine piece
of jade hand-carved in the form of a perfect
elephant—evidently Indian. They—but I
don't suppose you want to hear any more."
She tossed the paper down. Mr. Smithers
clicked his tongue against his teeth testily.
Frost's hand was on his arm. Lee saw him
glance at the man with something of question
before they moved to the stairs. Then she
turned wearily away.
At the door of his apartments Mr. Smithers
halted and jerked his elbow from Frost's hold.
"What the devil 's the matter with you?"
he began, and paused. Frost's wooden coun-
tenance was twitching, his eyes unnaturally
bright. He answered, stammering:
"I valeted Mr. Gish when he was here, sir.
He had jade cuff-links among his things,
carved like elephants. And—my God, sir!
-—one was broken—the other half was gone!"
s


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 235
should have been summarily dismissed for
his impertinence; but this evening there was
that in the way he looked at her that was
oddly disturbing. It made her feel somehow
defensive and guilty.
She was selecting one of Toby's collars from
among the many varied ones that, with their
accompanying leashes, hung above his basket,
when Haines abruptly spoke.
He had passed across the threshold, leaving
the car, now purring softly, outside, and had
drawn one of the doors slightly to behind
him, obviously to prevent Toby dashing exu-
berantly past him.
At the sound of his voice, Terry wheeled,
then stood still. His face was quite without
expression, but his eyes shone.
"Is it true," he asked, without preamble,
"that you are going to marry—Roland Gish?"
Terry gasped, strove for a crushing retort,
met those shining, steady eyes, and answered,
against her will:
"Yes!"
Haines leaned a broad shoulder against the
lintel of the unclosed, heavy door, and thrust
his hands deep into his pockets. His eyes did
not leave her face.


236 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
"I want you," he said quite calmly, "to
alter that decision!"
Again Terry gasped, and now the angry red
flamed high in her cheeks, her eyes were flash-
ing.
"This is intolerable! . . . Your audacity
is only equal to your impertinence, Haines!
You—you—" she broke off, breathless, im-
potently furious before his unshaken quiet.
"What do you mean by it, I say? What—"
Haines's mouth twitched faintly at the
corners. He held the passionate indignation
of her regard levelly, answered as levelly:
"That I love you. . . ." He took his hands
out of his pockets and came a step nearer to
her.
"I 'd rather see you dead," he went on,
and now his voice was vibrant with repressed
passion, "than sullied by that man's touch!
... I 'd rather die for you, here and now,
than let you go on with this criminal folly
that you are contemplating! It 's not even as
if you loved him! You don't! You 're not the
sort who loves easily. Oh "—he drew a long
breath, straightening himself suddenly and
standing upright—" I know!"
He flung his hands wide, passionately. His


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 237
face shone whitely against the growing dusk
without. His nostrils were ever so slightly
dilated, his eyes burning.
"You 're a baby. You don't know what
love means. . . . You '11 never know if you
go to a man like Roland Gish to teach you!"
Terry opened her lips and closed them
again. Toby, panting, ears cocked, circled
round her, occasionally sniffing at the collar
in her hand. Outside the thrumming purr of
the big car seemed to grow louder. Above
it Haines's voice rose again, vibrant once
more, almost savage in its intensity.
"Only—it 's not going to be. I tell you,
it's not going to be!"
Terry found her voice at last. It rose
shrilly, almost hysterically. At the rasp in it
Toby stopped gambolling and slid hurriedly
to the shelter of his basket.
"You—" she choked back her fury,
steadied herself. "And who 's going to
prevent it?"
"I am." Haines's hand flashed out suddenly
and closed about her wrist. He jerked her
close to him, holding her fast. "I tell you,"
he added thickly, " I love you! . . ."
In the shadows Terry's eyes were momen-
s


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 239
ping of an impatient Pom came from some-
where in the low-lying house.
Presently the big car outside the garage
ceased to purr and began to throb. Then,
silently, smoothly, headlights challenging,
dazzling, like the eyes of some monster of the
night, it glided down the drive and out into
the highroad.
Against the cushions within, very pale, very
still, and unexpectedly small and dhildish,
Terry lay.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 241
cepted the explanation, but the uneasiness
deepened in her eyes. She was quick as Terry
herself to understand a dog's moods, and
Toby's manner was unusual. It was not until
dinner was announced, and Terry did not
appear, that Teresa, too, showed surprise.
"Where on earth can she be?" she ex-
claimed, adding: "Now I come to think of
it, she went to fetch Toby, but I did n't see
her come back for the other dogs, and that
wretched Chicot was yelping in her room for
hours, it seemed to me."
Lee did not answer, but ran lightly up the
stairs and on to Terry's room. Chicot yelped
with delight as she entered, and Toby, still
whimpering at her heels, rushed in eagerly.
But, save for the animals, the room was
empty.
"Where is she?" Lee heard Teresa's voice,
querulous and bewildered, at her elbow.
She shook her head, a grave disquiet in
her eyes.
"I don't know. . . . She can't have come
in since she went to fetch Toby. I '11 send
down to the garage. Haines has charge of
Toby, and since the dog is loose Terry must
have been there." v


244 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
the other's keen regard composedly. "Why
should you think otherwise?"
"I don't know." Teresa's voice was edged,
her pansy eyes were narrowed. "Only—it
seems queer, rather—Terry going off joy-
riding like this, especially with Haines, whom
she can't tolerate. . . . Besides, you 've got
a sort of funny expression, you know."
Lee jerked back her chair and rose. Her
eyes were scornful.
"You are absurd! Terry '11 probably be
back in a few minutes now, half-starving, and
quite oblivious of time!"
But her voice lacked conviction. Her eyes
remained troubled, and Haines's words of a
night or two ago were still ringing in her ears.
The evening passed restlessly for both
women. By bedtime Teresa was on the verge
of hysterics.
"Terry must be quite mad!" she wailed.
"These pranks were bad enough before, but
now. . . or maybe there 's been an accident.
Lee, for Heaven's sake, can't you do some-
thing—send some of the men to look for
them? I believe you 're remaining inactive
on purpose—because you don't want Terry
to marry Roland Gish. . . ."


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 245
The shrill voice ceased before the sudden
flame of Lee's eyes. The girl said quietly-
after a moment:
"If inaction on my part would bring about
a break in that direction, I would not lift a
finger!"
She turned away as she spoke, but Teresa
caught her wrist.
"I believe you do know something!" she
cried. "My Heaven, Lee! If so—if to-night's
doings are in any way your work—you '11 be
sorry for it. And I can make you sorry,
don't forget that. I 'm not blind, you know"
—there was a queer, ugly sneer in the words
—" and I know a good bit more than perhaps
you think I do!"
Lee's expression remained unaltered. She
freed her wrist and passed on into her own
room. But, once inside, she leaned for a
moment limply against the panels of the door,
her face very white, her eyes dark with appre-
hension, Teresa's venom-pointed words sing-
ing maddeningly in her ears.


CHAPTER XXV
Lee scarcely slept that night. With her
letters her maid brought her a message.
Terry's car had been found in the village
garage, where, according to the proprietor,
Haines had left it the previous evening. Noth-
ing at all had been seen of Terry. Haines
had taken a drink in the village inn, and had
gone.
Lee rose listlessly, dressed, and made her
way to Teresa's room. A maid informed her
that Mrs. Dorice could see no one, as she
was suffering from acute nervous headache,
and quite prostrate. Lee left the message,
partook of a scant and solitary breakfast, and
drifted afterwards to her husband's rooms.
Here Frost informed her that Mr. Smithers
had not enjoyed a good night. He was sleep-
ing still, and did not wish to be disturbed at
all during the day.
Lee, with Toby at her heels, went out. It
was a clear morning and mild, and she stayed
until luncheon-time. The conviction was
growing upon her that Haines was responsible
for Terry's disappearance, and, while she was


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 249
I Ve dreaded breaking the magic spell. . . .
Only, after the way you helped me that night
it seemed to me that—that you might have
found it in your heart to—to give me the
benefit of the doubt. I 'm—innocent, Lee!"
"Don't!" Lee made a half-appealing, per-
emptory gesture. Her face was white. "I
—have hardly thought about that, save in
connection with the danger of your position.
I—have only remembered that you are you—"
Her voice caught. With a quick movement
he gripped her shoulders and swung her round
to face him.
"Oh, girl! But you believe me?"
She lifted wide, troubled eyes to his,
searched them deeply, earnestly, then gave a
tired, half-sobbing sigh.
"I think—" she said, with a twisted, rather
pitiful smile—" that I should believe any-
thing that you told me."
Carson drew a long breath and let her go.
For a while he did not speak. Then he went
on, the note of excitement creeping into his
voice again.
"You know the wretched story. My mar-
riage was a failure from the beginning. I
was a quixotic young fool, or I would never


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 251
tant. Back towards the upper road, through
the bracken and the tree-trunks a figure
moved, shadowy, indistinct, and finally dis-
appeared.
In the silence of the hut Carson's voice rose
again. He smiled.
"I 'm letting memories carry me away . . .
forgetting the future! Lee, you 've seen the
papers—you 've seen the discovery of a man's
broken cuff-link? Its description?" Again, as
she nodded, his nervous brown hand gripped
her arm. "Lee—those cuff-links were Roland
Gish's!" He jerked to a stop, hesitated, and
went on. "Don't ask me how I know. I do
know! And Roland Gish was the man who
was instrumental in taking my—in taking
Chrissie from my home, in bringing scandal
on our name. Roland Gish fascinated her as
I could never have done. He made her love
him as he had made a dozen other women love
him—and cast her aside as he had cast the
others. Or—was about to. I warned her of
that, that night when I was there—I tried to
show her the true character of the man. I did
not know how far things had gone between
them—I did not ask. But she would not listen
—she raged at me like a tigress. I guessed


252 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
then, if I had never guessed before, how
utterly and completely the man held sway
over her—that it was too late to hope for even
an outward semblance of reconciliation be-
tween us. I left her then."
He paused and took a few strides the length
of the narrow room, speaking again as he did so.
"It 's funny—but I never thought of Gish
in connection with her death. Like the world
I only connected him with her inasmuch as he
was getting her talked about—and as only
one of the reasons for our quarrel. Until last
night, when I learned that the cuff-link was
his—"
"Last night?—" Lee looked startled, but
he brushed the interruption aside.
"Gish had assumed no greater importance
in the ghastly affair. But now—now"—he
halted before her again, and his breath came
quickly—" I 've begun to wonder. Gish must
have been there in the apartment with her at
some time—he might even have been there,
in hiding, during our interview and quarrel.
If so—if so, Lee, why should they not have
quarrelled too? God knows, it 's only a sur-
mise—but a drowning man clutches at straws,
however frail !—"


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 253
Lee's eyes widened in horror, and something
of his own excitement. "You—mean? . . ."
"That the blow that killed Chrissie was
struck brutally, without deliberation, in the
heat of ungoverned passion. I did not strike
that blow. There was only one other with
whom she could have quarrelled violently.
That other was Gish. I know more of him
now—through hearsay—than I did five years
ago. His methods—with women, and other-
wise—have become notorious. They have al-
ways been brutal."
Lee drew a brief mental picture of her
erstwhile guest—suave, debonair, altogether
charming. She remembered her impression of
the lines about his mouth, the look in his eyes,
and shuddered. She waited silently for Car-
son to go on.
"Even now," he proceeded, " no suspicion
of him would have crossed my mind, if it had
not been for Harry—"
He stopped short. Lee looked at him again
searchingly, questioningly. He met her glance
and smiled faintly.
"It does n't matter now—but he 's one of
the two truest friends a man ever had! He,
and one other, gave up five years of their


254 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
lives in working for my liberty. . . ." Again
his lips twitched. "But for those two I should
never have gained it, or kept it a day! I owe
everything to them."
Lee moistened lips that had become a little
dry.
"But—Gishl" she whispered. "How—
what grounds—" She broke off.
Carson shrugged and then squared his
shoulders. His eyes looked tired suddenly, a
little bleak.
"I don't know. I 've got to leave the rest
in Harry's hands. The waiting—suspense—
will be damnable, of course." His eyes met
hers, deepened and glowed. "Were it not for
you," he whispered, "I 'd give myself up
again—risk all for the chance of voicing my
own suspicions. But—for your sake—for the
sake of our joint happiness—I dare n't!"
He swung away from her again, and stood
staring out of the window. She heard him
speaking presently, just above his breath.
"I 've been a fool! Worse than a fool!
I 'd no right to do what I have done—no right
to involve you in this—no right to take from
you what I have. I 've been a selfish, unthink-
ing brute . . . but, my God! Lee! If this
>


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 257
beginning. It can't go on—we 're neither of
us strong enough—"
She choked and stopped. Carson took a step
nearer.
"Is anything in life," he asked, " stronger
than—love?"
For a long moment she met his eyes, pite-
ously, yet steadfastly. Then she flung her
hands wide.
"Only—fidelity!" she said. And then:
"Oh, don't you understand? That old man
—that poor old man! He loves me—in his
way. He believes in me. He gave his honour
into my hands—he trusts me! Trusts me—
oh, God!"
Her voice broke on a storm of tears. Car-
son caught her hands and held them against
his breast. The light in his eyes was strange,
very wonderful.
"Lee!"
Through the rain of her tears Lee looked
up at him.
"You '11 let me go?" she said. "Oh—my
dear! It's not that I do not care—more than
ever words of mine can sayl But you '11
forget—you must forget. . . ."
She stopped. The man drew her nearer.


258 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
The look in his eyes calmed her suddenly.
"I '11 let you go," he answered. "But I '11
not forget. I never could forget, because—
oh, Lee! I love you more to-night than ever
before! ..."
He released her and stepped back. Blindly
she turned to the door. He did not move, and
with her hand on the latch she paused and
looked back.
"Good-bye!" she whispered.
Carson smiled. It was an oddly radiant,
very wonderful smile. But he answered
gravely:
"God bless you!"


CHAPTER XXVI
TERRY stirred among unaccustomed coverings,
coughed, and sat upright. There was a sing-
ing in her ears and her head ached heavily.
She felt a little sick, and utterly bewildered.
Then, as her vision cleared, she gasped. She
was in a rather stuffy room, in which the
odours of coffee, wood, and oil mingled a little
suffocatingly. Matting was upon the floor,
beaded curtains covered the absurd windows.
Before a fire of damp logs Haines Squatted,
trying to make toast.
For a moment Terry stared at him dazedly.
Then, as recollection dawned upon her, she
flung aside her coverings and sprang to her
feet. Giddy, she caught at a chair, and Haines,
dropping the toasting-fork, leaped up.
Through the hazy mingling of smoke and
oil fumes they stared at each other. Terry
tried to speak and coughed instead. Her face
looked pinched and small in the lamplight,
and Haines turned abruptly to where a coffee-
~ *


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 261
"How?"
Haines grinned, but there was no accom-
panying amusement in his eyes. Under their
lowered lids they were shadowed, as if with
faint shame, yet unwavering.
"Brute force, in the beginning—aided by a
little chloroform and a woollen scarf. After-
wards it was n't difficult to administer the
right sort of dope, enough to keep you quiet
on the run down here. And, by the way, we 're
not likely to be traced or followed. I parked
a car ready for emergencies in the coppice
back of the inn at Brookbridge. Trespassing,
of course, but could n't help that. Pretty
dark when we got that far, and most of the
village congregated at the bar. ... It only
took a minute to lift you from one car to the
other. Ran yours down to the village garage
—ran back to the inn and had a drink—then
came along on here. Very simple, really,
though, of course, a bit melodramatic—rather
like a movie stunt !—" He did not look round.
Terry was quivering with rising anger, but
she had heard him in grim silence. She asked
now:
"Why?"
Haines set the slice of toast on a plate,


262 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
buttered it, and brought it to her. He filled
her cup with coffee, added milk and sugar,
and pulled up a chair.
"You 'd better eat before I tell you. It 's
midnight, and you missed tea and dinner.
You '11 be feeling a bit shaky."
Terry sat down. Her limbs were trembling
and she still felt sick. She swallowed the toast
at first with difficulty, but ate the second piece
he gave her. With renewed strength her
anger flamed higher.
"Why?" she said for the second time.
Haines looked at her, and away again. He
opened a packet of cigarettes, selected one,
and leaned forward to put the packet on her
knee. Then he tilted his head back into
shadow and spoke.
"There 's a parson about half a mile from
here. I 've got a marriage licence in my
pocket. I love you. I 've wanted you. It
seemed to me there was only one way of
making sure of saving you from that—from
Gish! As I say, I love you—a lot more than
you can ever understand. It seemed to me—
even with the odds against me—I could make
you—care a little too."
Terry gave vent to an exclamation so pas-


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 263
sionately scornful that he winced, but he went
on imperturbably:
"You see, you 're not quite the ordinary,
conventional girl. There 's a heap more in
you. And, as a consequence, you need han-
dling differently. And "—he drew a slow
breath—" I 'm thinking you could love mighty
wonderfully."
He paused. Terry sat speechless. Haines
relighted his cigarette and went on.
"Even if you loved Gish, I should have
acted just the same. But you don't—thank
God!" He stirred suddenly and sat upright.
"My first intention—when I began to plan
this—was to bring you here, and to keep you
here until you consented to marry me. It 's
not such a far-fetched notion as it sounds, you
know. I may be just a chauffeur, Terry—a
servant—in your eyes. But I 'm not exactly
poor—I could keep a wife in a fair amount of
comfort, even luxury "—he grinned for a mo-
ment in the shadows—" and I 'm as decently
bred as most of the men you accept as equals.
Even if I were not, I 'm a man—and I 've got
a clean record—and my love for you is the
biggest thing that has ever happened in my
life."


264 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
His voice shook for an instant. He got
rather abruptly to his feet and stood above
her. In spite of herself, something in his tone
impressed Terry, held her silent.
"It seemed to me that, even if you hated
me at first for what I 've done, once you be-
longed to me—once I had a right to guard you
and look after you—I could teach you differ-
ently. I hoped it 'd be that way, anyhow."
The girl stirred, opened her lips, and closed
them again.
"You see, I figured it out that you 'd have
no choice but to marry me. Folks '11 all know
you came away with me. At least, they will
by to-morrow evening. I sent a wire to Brook-
bridge from a village we passed on our way
here, saying so. And I meant to keep you
here until you realised you 'd have to con-
sent."
"You utter cadi" Terry's voice rose shrilly
on a hysterical note; she sprang to her feet
and stood facing him. "Oh, you cadi I 'd
never consent. Compromised or not, I 'd
never consent. I 'd rather go through life
with my reputation in tatters than consent!
What then?"
Haines's face whitened, his nostrils were


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 265
dilated. He was still quiet, but there was a
rising note of passion, fiercely controlled, in
his voice—a passion overwhelming, inexor-
able, before which Terry involuntarily re-
coiled. He spoke without trying to soften the
brutality of his words.
"I 'd keep you here, say, two weeks to try
and persuade you. After that—well, I Ve
resorted to primitive methods in metaphori-
cally knocking you on the head and carrying
you off. I don't suppose, if you tried me far
enough, and since I mean to have you, I 'd
hesitate to resort to a primitive form of mar-
riage ceremony!"
Terry stood suddenly very still. Her face
burned red, then went white. Of a sudden,
beneath that which she saw in his eyes her
high courage deserted her. With a sound half
a sob, half a moan, she dropped into her chair
and sat huddled.
Haines waited for a minute, then went on:
"But something has happened which has
made me decide to drive a bargain with you.
Listen. You 've heard of the Carson murder.
Well, something has just come to light which
has given me a jolt that I can lay my hand on
the real murderer. I can't take my suspicions


266 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
to the police. They 'd probably laugh at me,
the evidence is so slender. Or, if they investi-
gated, the murderer would get wise and clear
out. It 's clearly a case for bluff. And it
came to me, driving you here, that you are the
one to work that bluff."
He reached out suddenly and caught her
wrist. "See here, kid. If you '11 come with
me as soon as we can get going to-morrow, to
Roland Gish, and say to him what I tell you
to say—I 11 take you safe back to Brook-
bridge afterwards, and no one will be the wiser
about to-night. Now—listen some more."
Steadily, clearly, while she stared, he spoke
a few sentences. As he finished, she sprang
to her feet, catching her hands over her mouth
to stifle a scream.
"No—no! Oh—it is n't true—I could n't
—" she stopped.
Haines's eyes were merciless.
"We '11 soon have proof of the truth," he
said. "And — you know the alternative!
You '11 come?"
Terry let her hands fall and drew a deep
breath. Her face was deadly pale.
"Yes," she said weakly, " I '11 come."
>


CHAPTER XXVII
Terry found herself driving into London by
noon the next day. She was large-eyed, very
quiet, and utterly subdued. For the first time
in her inconsequent life she had been forced
face to face with reality in the raw—with
something of tragedy—and, incidentally, with
the fact that life is not always merely a game.
She was palpably nervous. She had been
badly frightened—there is nothing more ut-
terly terrifying than a sense of one's own utter
weakness in the hands of either Fate or man
—and she was still suffering from the effects
of shock.
Once or twice, under her lashes, she looked
at Haines, sitting unresponsive and grim-
lipped at the wheel. He had given her no
explanation of his part in the Carson affair—
she was altogether bewildered, and nearer, at
moments, to tears than she had ever been in
her life. But what perplexed her most was
that she was not nearly so angry with Haines
as she ought to be.


268 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
It puzzled her. It set her thinking. Not
long ago, she decided, she had liked Haines,
quite a good deal—distinctly more than she
was in the habit of liking servants; indeed,
more than she generally liked most people.
He had seemed such a very mild-mannered,
obliging person. . . .
She looked at him again, and a little flame
of colour rose in her cheeks. Now, she de-
cided, with a complete change of mood, she
hated him! Then she became subdued again,
a little sick, more than a little frightened.
Haines forced her to have lunch in a pleas-
ant, unpretentious restaurant. He sent in-
numerable telephone messages, and got up
once from the table to join a couple of very
ordinary neatly dressed men who had taken a
seat, halfway through the meal, at a neigh-
bouring table.
When he came back to her, he ordered wine
and forced her to drink a glass. He had not
spoken throughout the meal, except to ask her
what food she would like.
While she ate, Terry was asking herself
where her spirit had gone, why she did not
spring up and rush out of the restaurant, and
make her own way back to Brookbridge.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 269
Perhaps it was the occasional flicker she
saw in Haines's eyes when he looked at her—
perhaps that in her heart of hearts she knew
a greater respect for him than she had known
for any man in her life, that prevented her.
And when at last she found herself entering
the hotel in which Roland Gish was staying,
she turned to him piteously, appealingly, her
lips moving mutely. He laid a hand over hers
then, holding it fast, and the look in his eyes
was oddly warm.
"It's all right," he said. "You 're think-
ing me a brute—a beast—I know. It 's a
cruel ordeal. . . . But it's for your own good,
kid. And for the whitest man who ever
walked. ... Go to it, kid, and don't funk.
We shall all three be in the anteroom—quite
close."
He indicated two men who stood near by,
the same men who had come into the restau-
rant a little while previously. Then he urged
her towards the lift. The two men went on
up the stairs.
Terry passed in to the tiny anteroom that
separated the sleeping-apartments from the
others, and knocked at one of the doors.
Roland Gish himself answered it, stared for


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 271
"For the love of Mike!" he uttered.
"Why?"
Terry put out the tip of a pink tongue and
moistened her lips. She returned his aston-
ished gaze levelly.
"Because," she said, mechanically, almost
parrot-wise, " I know you for what you are—
because I know that you are a murderer! The
murderer of Chrissie Carson!"
She never forgot the look that leaped into
Gish's eyes. Horror, dread, something bestial
in its fear. She recoiled from it shuddering,
and cried out as she found his hands upon her
wrists.
"You—" Gish's voice was thick. He was
utterly off his guard; he had lost his head and
his nerve alike. He shook the girl furiously.
"How do you know?—"
He choked. Terry looked down at her
bruised wrists, and up into his eyes. Oddly
enough she was no longer afraid, only sick to
the soul of her with the horror of a creeping
certainty.
"Everybody knows — or will know.
They 've discovered that the broken cuff-link
was yours—they 've been making inquiries.
You were seen going into her apartment that


272 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
night—coming out—after Denham Carson
left. ..."
In the anteroom Haines breathed hard. She
had learned her lesson well, was playing her
part as he had never hoped she would do.
With sudden violence Gish flung her hands
from him. His lips were twisted back over
his teeth in a snarl.
"That 's a lie! No one could have seen
mel . . . I was there when she came in. I
got out through the window—by the fire-
escape. It was pitch-dark, and there was n't
a soul about. Besides, I did n't kill her! She
nagged at me, stormed—raved—said that
Denham Carson had told her I 'd be through
with her. I only hit out at her and she fell!
God! You little she-devil! Who are you—
what are you—what's been your game all this
time? . . ."
Again in the anteroom Haines drew a deep
breath. One of the men ceased writing in a
flappy notebook with a very stumpy and blunt
pencil. The other opened the door.
Haines caught Terry as she stumbled
towards him. Without looking back, he lifted
her, carried her down the stairs, past the
startled groups in the vestibule, and out to


276 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
her hand was an orange envelope; her pretty
face was suffused with unbecoming colour, and
she was breathing jerkily.
Her eyes sought Lee's, and grew venomous.
"This came hours ago!" she announced.
She flourished a pink slip of paper almost
wildly, adding: " That fool of a maid of yours
forgot to give it to me until now. . . . Read
it!"
Lee took it mechanically; read mechani-
cally.
Terry came away with me. Quite safe.
Haines
She opened her lips and closed them again,
crushing the paper in her hand. Her husband
sat upright. Mrs. Dorice laughed hysterically.
With a vicious movement she slammed the
door to behind her and advanced into the
room. She did not glance at Smithers, her
eyes were on Lee.
"That 's your doing!" she said tensely.
"Oh, don't deny it! You 've had a hand in
this all along—have been against Terry's mar-
riage all along! And I suppose you think
you 've won. Perhaps you have, but mark
you this! it 's not going to benefit you any. I


280 THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE
Gish confessed to Chrissie's murder this morn-
ing. Arrested. Bringing Terry straight back
to Brookbridge.
Harry
"My God!" Smithers's lips were twitching.
He turned to the bedroom door. "Frost—"
he called, shakily, yet with a strength in his
voice, a depth and warmth and vibrant clarity
that held Lee dumb where she stood.
"Frost—"
Lee saw the old servant run forward, saw
the meeting of his hand and his master's, and
put her hands for a moment against her
temples. She felt shaken, dazed, utterly bewil-
dered. The voice that had spoken a moment
ago was a voice long grown familiar to her—
familiar, and dear. Fascinated, swaying a
little, she stood watching. Jason Smithers
was pumping Frost's arm up and down with
the energy of a schoolboy.
"Frost!" she heard him say again, " I 'm
free! Oh—God! I 'm free! . . ."
And then he turned suddenly and looked
at her. He took a step nearer and his hands
went out to her. His voice when he spoke
was very deep, not quite steady, infinitely
tender.


THE FUGITIVE MILLIONAIRE 285
you did not penetrate it, I began to really
hope! And yet I was afraid—of a slip—a
mistake." Again he paused, his lips twitched
suddenly, humorously: "I 've never heard of
any insanity in my family, but I think I
must have been insane when I conceived the
idea of marrying you—Harry nearly had
hysterics, and Frost fairly foamed at the
mouth. I saw the danger and the folly of the
thing myself, but I could n't resist. I had
to have you— be sure of you! I utterly forgot
what it would mean to you if I should be
found out—caught! I 've been a brute, Lee,
all round—a brute."
Lee stirred, but she did not speak. He went
on:
"You were so sweet. . . . The game was
damnably difficult to play, sometimes. I had
not realised what being under the same roof
would mean! I had to sham illness most of
the time—to contrive to talk to you in shad-
owed rooms—to avoid the sunlight and the
open day. It would not have been so bad if
you had not found me downstairs upon the
first night. . . ."
Again Lee stirred. Her wide eyes asked
a bewildered question. He answered it, half
.•-