Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

A HAZARD FOR A HEART 23 lie was the same man, and had followed her home, and lnrked about in front of the house nntil an opportunity offered for him to leap to the ledge of her window and sneak into her bondoir. Her thoughts had gone no farther, when the burglar bent her backward, with a dextrous twist, as the apache had handled his partner in the dance, and, forcing her to her knees, jerked off the pearl necklace at her throat. He snapped off a slender golden chain, and pulled a chamois bag of jewels from her bodice. Nordiska cowered at his feet, in real terror, as the dancing girl had done. She dared not struggle, dared not cry out, as he pushed her to one side, and opened a small leather handbag on her dresser, flinging in the necklace and chamois bag, and returning to add her rings to the collection, tearing^ them a ruthlessly from her fingers/ / .;. Nordiska" looked on with terrified eyes as he found the keys to her desk, in her Jiandbag, and ransacked drawers, pushing a handful of large banknotes into a mysterious-looking black bundle he had brought beneath his arm. Then, with the audacious bravado of an elemental man, bravado which she had but lately admired, the thief slumped down in a comfortable armchair which commanded a view of the whole room, arid, slowly lighting a cigaret, stared at Mile. Nordiska with insolent familiarity. ' ' Cant you entertain me ? ' ' he cried, suddenly, in the cant tongue of the Parisian underworld. "Do a little dance, girl, or sing us a song.'' He stretched his legs contentedly across a gilded, antique chair. Mile. Nordiska, cold shivers creeping all over her flesh, kept her eyes fixed, in fearful fascination, on the apache, and slowly, methodically, began the dance she had done so often on the stage. She moved with a rhythm almost melodious, and it was evident, from the satisfied manner of the apache, that he was charmed with her. Then she sang, softly, sweetly, putting all the tenderness and coquetry she could into her performance, hoping to fascinate the brute, and perhaps win back her money and jewels. The face of the apache expanded in a bloated grin. He seemed overcome by the warmth and luxury of his surroundings. Once he nodded, and Nordiska, hopeful, redoubled her efforts to make him forget himself and his situation. With a pleased leer on his lips, he lay back in the comfortable armchair, and watched her thru half-closed eyes, as she swayed back and forth before him, lulling him to unconscious ease by her soft song. Finally his bruised, discolored lower jaw dropped, he breathed heavily, and did not move. Nordiska, feverishly hopeful, approached him, stopping her song. He did not move. She slipped toward the door leading to the lower hall, where the concierge slept. The door creaked as she went thru, but the apache did not awaken. An instant later Nordiska was thumping old Louis on the back, whispering in his deaf ear that there was a burglar upstairs, that he must arouse himself and get the police. She pushed him thru the front door. They fled down the street together, coming upon the night patrol only a block away. Summoning a brother officer, the patrolman rushed back to the house. All four sneaked silently up the stairs, and slipped into Nordiska 's room. The lights were still on, but the burglar was gone. The bundle he had brought, and Nordiska's handbag, full of valuables, had disappeared with him. Nordiska was beside herself with anger. If only Jacques Rontel or Henry Bernot were real men ; if they loved her, they would be with her in time of need, and catch the man who had stolen her jewels. Furious, she led the searchers from room to room of her apartment. The burglar was not to be found. A sudden sound in Nordiska 's boudoir brought them all tumbling back,