Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1916)

Ill) Photoplay Magazine able. Olga eyed John furtively. Now she would learn what was to be her role. He took her to the room and left her there alone, promising to watch for pursuers, though they were now practically safe. Exhausted. Olga flung herself upon the narrow couch, but her alert mind would not permit her to sleep. -She heard John approach, and closed her eyes. He rapped softly, then entered. He approached her couch, and she heard him remove his overcoat, and felt him cover her with it. gently tucking it in at the sides. Then he went out, softly closing the door. Swiftly Olga flung off the covering, ran to the door, locked it, and in leisurely fashion began exploring the pockets of the big coat. She found a wallet crammed with letters, and soon her keen wit had pieced the story together. John and Lisa were engaged, but he did not know that she was not the daughter of the Merrills ; seemingly Lisa herself had forgotten her own origin. if she ever knew. The Merrills evidently had not considered it necessary to enlighten Huntington until the young couple had passed the probation stage. What, then, was to be done? John would want to take her. Olga Pavloff the Nihilist, to the Merrills, and there she would meet her sister. To attempt to prevent this would raise complications that inevitably would reveal the truth. Certainly, also, she could not go back to Warsaw. For the present she was a marked woman. But now. most potent of all, was that constantly recurring remembrance of this virile man's arms around her and his lips on hers. It was the same Olga who had ruthlessly robbed Lisa of her toys. She returned the letters to the wallet, unlocked the door, covered herself with the coat, and soon slept soundly, having solved the problem of the future by determining to win John's love over to herself before he again met Lisa. A ND so they set out for America. As ■^"^ for her presence among the Nihilists. Olga explained this partly in truth and partly in falsehoods. She told of her parentage and her adoption — Lisa's adoption. but her own for the purpose of her story. She told of her father's exile and his return, of his being fatally wounded, and sending for her to come to his deathbed, and of police persecution merely because she was his daughter. But she said noth ing «.f a si>ter. The story was straight enough, and Huntington saw no reason t<* doubt it. Yet there was something different about Lisa. He had called her his "garden of girls." but this was a strange flower in his garden. It was not 01 the wholesome blossoms he had known, but a strange exotic, exhaling subtle and unpleasantly intoxicating perfumes. aroused his passions but not his affections, and the great respect and adoration he held for the real Lisa held him back. Not again did he take her in his arms, or meet her lips, which seemed so often ready with invitation. Thus the game went on. day after dav. until they two reached America. By longdistance telephone Huntington learned that Senator Merrill was away on a congressional tour and that Mrs. Merrill had not yet left Paris, so far as the servants knew. 'She must have changed her mind." I a suggested, and silently congratulated herself on the good luck that was following her. But something was following her besides luck. She did not notice a swarthy figure eyeing her closely as she landed from the steamship, nor that this same figure followed her and John to the train that took them to Washington. Arriving at the senator's home, she was elated to hear the servants address her as "Miss Lisa." This, she felt, secured her position until the real Lisa should appear. Meanwhile she would make it her business so to infatuate Huntington, intoxicate him with her physical appeal if necessary, and lure him to marry her before the exposure came. This had become the ruling passion of her life, entirely dethroning the thought of aver._ her father. A FEW evenings later they were sitting "^^ together on a divan in the dimly lighted library. There had been a long silence between them. Then John leaned toward her and drew her close. "Lisa, my beloved." he whispered with subdued intensity, "I don't understand you. Sometimes I think I do not love you as T did before you went away. You seem different, elusive. I have been fighting with myself about you. What is it? JJ'/mt is it?"' Olga's bos,un rose and fell tumultuously. (Con tinned on page 166)