Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

FEBRUARY 1925 Pictures and Pictvireooer y? " Does that include the whole of tht police force?" " Why, those days are gone too, 1 am afraid," replied Carey. " 1 don't know that I'm sorry." " Not even when they ended in failure?" "You mean the 'Humming Bird?' Oh, of course we are as far as ever from probing the mystery of that young man. But somehow, in these days of turmoil, the 'Humming Bird's' sins seem, well — remote. How shall 1 put it?" " I know what vou mean," said Toinette. " There is something else I wanted to tell you," Carey went on. " That girl whose photograph you found in my pocket that night you saved my life." " But—" " Oh, yes you did. Well, it's — it's all off. That little affair. I found out the truth in time. We all make mistakes, they say. She — she was mine." Lie did not meet her eyes. Had he endeavoured to do so he would have observed that her own were fixed wistfully but unseeing on the remote peak of the far-off Eiffel Tower. " And now about yourself," he went on abruptly. " This happening has changed the world, you know. Things can never be the same again. What is vnnr own position?" 1 think," said loiiiettc, " 1 .shall do my little im by forming a battalion of my boyi and looking after then until they go away. Afterward! — well, who can talk ol the afterwards in these days?" Toinette was as good as her word. All else was abandoned tor her new campaign. And so well did she instil into her own apaches a novel patriotic fervour that soon there no man of her " gang " at the I who did not wear the uniform of his country. Headed by Zi-Zi, her fiercest lieutenant, one day they marched away; and Toinette was left alone. * * » It was a winter's night at the beginning of 1918. Mrs. Marshall Carey's house on the outskirts of Paris was shrouded in darkness, for a warning had just come through to the effect that an air raid was imminent. Every shutter was drawn, though within doors the house was cosy and well-lighted. In a comfortable chair, alone in a big room sat Mrs. Marshall Carey's nephew Randall, seeing pictures in the fire, wondering. . . Llours seemed to pass. Dull thuds were heard, growing nearer, retreating. Sharp shots and hoarse cries were on every hand. Carey wished he could totter to the window and see, know if " they " were coming on victorious or be driving back to defeat. Through the chinks of the shutters he could see the searchlights sweeping the sky. And then he seemed to doze; to awake with a start, and think that it must be the pain in his wounded leg that had caused him to awake. But his leg seemed easy — easier than it had been for <many weeks. Then—? 11' looked round, and there before him in the room was 1 oimtte. •' Your" ' Randall!" i oinette I" Instinctively they embraced; and fell apart in surprise at this unsjjokcii confession ol love. " But — " he gasped when her blushes had subsided, " bow come you to be here at all?" " I — I saw in the newspapers that you were wounded ami I came 09 h< i< the first opportunity I had. I called and saw your aunt. She is a sweet woman, Randall. She told me when I arrived that you had been calling for me when you were very ill." They sat side by side and he took her hand. "\Y/eeks ago I loved you, Toinette," he " murmured. " Aye, months ago. I think I loved you, or wanted to love you the very first time I ever saw you. When I was away in the trenches I used to dream of you. I wrote to you, but perhaps my letters went astray. I never received a reply." " I never got your letters," said Toinette. " I — you see, I was unable to receive them. I have been away.'' " Love—" " Perhaps," said Toinette, " you should not make love to me until you know all. Once you asked me if I would like to turn over a new leaf and begin life afresh. I did not accept your offer, but I would now — unless it is too late. Perhaps it is too late. . ." " Never !" cried Carey. " Whit. I said that I first learnt of your illness, of the fact that you had been wounded, in the newspapers. But that, Randall, was seven weeks ago, as you must know yourself. You will wonder why I did not come to Toinette instils into her own Apaches something of her own patriotic fervour.