Picture-Play Magazine (Sep 1928 - Feb 1929)

94 A Continued from page 92 the musicians came and went ; and now from behind the embossedleather screen issued the immaculately dressed form of Marco Lopez. He glanced at the couples dancing, and saw that his understudy, who continued his afternoon work into the early evening if desired, was on duty. He then went straight to Lady Gates' table with a hurried, apologetic air, as if ready to excuse himself for having kept her waiting. But her head was bent down, and she did not raise her eyes as he bent over her. He murmured something, paused, stared, touched the hand that loosely held the empty tumbler, then started stiffly upright. "Dios!" he exclaimed, turning with a frightened roll of the eyes to stare wildly about him as if for help. Almost instantly Pierre was at his side. "What is it, Lopez?" he asked in a soothing tone. "Is Lady Gates ill? Has she fainted?" "Yes, yes, that must be it. She has fainted," echoed Lopez. "Have you your car outside?" asked Pierre. "Yes. It is a small car, as you know," stammered Lopez. "Do you think " "I think her ladyship had better be got away as soon as possible," Pierre advised, seeing that Allen had returned. Malcolm came quickly over and joined the two men as they talked. "I see that my aunt has fainted," he said. "She was very excited a few minutes ago. I have my motor outside and I prefer to use it rather than she should be put into Mr. Lopez' car." "Lady Gates is my promised wife," broke in Lopez. "I have the right to " "No right whatever." Malcolm shouldered Lopez aside and picked up Lady Gates in his arms. It was lucky for him that she had lost at least forty pounds in the last few weeks, or she would have been an awkward burden. As Allen carried her out of the restaurant, followed by an assiduous waiter ready to help, there was something grotesque about the dangling figure in the peachbloom gown. It looked, with head and arms flopping over Malcolm's shoulder, and pink-silk legs hanging straight down, like a huge doll. "Good heavens ! I suppose the woman can't be dead?" breathed Pauline Fordham. CHAPTER XX. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. Marco Lopez had rushed down after the little procession, protesting violently in a wild mixture of Eng Girl Comes to Hollywood lish and Spanish. Allen paid no more attention to him than if he had been a dog yapping at his heels ; but, reaching the street where the doorman stood aghast, Malcolm saw that Pierre had unobtrusively descended. "Monsieur Allen," said the proprietor of Montparnasse, "may I offer a word of advice? Do you not think it best to take her ladyship to the private hospital which is close by, rather than drive her in the state she is, to her hotel? I have seen many people faint, and I do not like her ladyship's looks at all. I feel sure a doctor should examine her at once." "Perhaps you are right. I will take her to the sanitarium," said Malcolm. "Could you come along, Pierre, and hold her on to the seat? I have no chauffeur now. I'm driving myself." "I intend to come and hold Lady Gates," announced Lopez. "If I cannot have her in my car, I will go with her in yours." "Not if I know it," said Malcolm. "What about it, Pierre?" "I regret I cannot possibly go," the Frenchman explained. "I must return and see that all is well with my patrons after this unpleasant scene. I — but see, here is Mees Smith. She will help you." "I've come for that. I made my friends let me come," Madeleine said. Assisted by the waiter who had looked after Lady Gates since she became a patron of Montparnasse, the limp form was got into Malcolm's car, Madeleine holding the head and shoulders. Even when Malcolm was in the driver's seat, ready to start, Lopez would have opened the door of the Rolls-Royce and jumped in, but, with a ferocious "Keep off, you dog !" Allen wheeled his car out by a quick turn. Lopez had to spring back to save himself from a fall, but he flung up his arms, swearing strange oaths. "You will repent this, my fine sir !" he yelled after the vanishing car. Then, with a final shake of his fist, he dashed to his own car which was parked near by, and followed the Rolls. "Matron," as every one called the youngish but stately woman who directed the sanitarium, ushered in Doctor Nelson whom she had received downstairs. A nurse, left in charge by her at the bedside, moved aside in respectful silence. "She is dead !" pronounced the doctor decisively, after a moment's examination. "She must have been dead at least half an hour." "I feared it." murmured the matron. "Heart failure!" "Heart failure, yes," repeated Doc "You are making a tor Nelson. "But what caused heart failure— that's the question? Her appearance is peculiar — and I'm afraid this will turn out to be a peculiar case. I believe, Mr. Allen — I know you very well by sight — that this lady was a relative of yours?" "She is — she was — my aunt," Malcolm answered. "I was talking with her at her table, at Montparnasse, not much more than half an hour ago. She seemed perfectly well then — except that she was upset and annoyed." "Doctor !" broke in Marco Lopez. "Don't listen to anything this man may say. In my opinion he is a murderer ! It will be proved that he killed Lady Gates." "Take care!" Doctor Nelson warned him terrible accusation "It is the truth," repeated Lopez. "I accuse Malcolm Allen of the murder of his aunt. She loved me. We were to marry. He killed her, because he knew she was going to change her will. But murderers are barred from inheriting. He " "You really must be silent," the doctor ordered. "This is no place for such accusations. If you intend to make them, go to the police." "The man is either mad or a devil !" said Malcolm. "It's not only damnable, it's absurd to say I killed my aunt ! I couldn't have done it if I'd wished to ! Why, every one in the restaurant saw us talking together at her table. I didn't touch her." Madeleine Standi sh did not speak, but her body was chilled as if by an icy wind, as mentally she reconstructed the scene at Montparnasse. Malcolm had come to Sonnenberg's table by invitation. Then Lady Gates had furiously beckoned. His last words as he went to her had been that his aunt would be "better off dead" than married to Marco Lopez. If it should be discovered that Lady Gates had died of poison — Madeleine prayed this might not happen— there would be strong circumstantial evidence against her nephew. The girl hoped to heaven that she alone had seen the little tabloid produced from the vial and dropped into the glass. Nothing on earth would ever make her bear witness against Malcolm ! For a moment, the nurse left in charge by the matron and superceded on the latter's return, listened to the strange conversation. Then, unnoticed, her existence forgotten by all in the room, she slipped out. Her mind was made up what to do. Her name was Maggie Turner. She was young, not yet twenty-four, but she was already disgusted with Continued on page 110