The Weekly Exponent

A Dangerous Woman

By R. S. HOLLAND

(©, 1925, Western Newspaper Union.)

WHEN Chivers came back to New York after a long business trip he found the weather so sultry and his club so deserted that he called up his friend Jack Manson, who had a bungalow on a little lake in the nearby wilds.

Manson's servant, Parkins, answered the telephone, and said his master was away, but he was sure Mr. Manson would be glad to have Mr. Chivers come out and spend the night with him. So Chivers reached the bungalow as the sun was setting. He had a swim in the lake, refreshed himself with clean linen and lighted a cigarette in the guest room before he returned to the big living room where Perkins had set the table for dinner.

As he came to the curtain at the door he stopped abruptly. A girl was in the big room. Her back was toward him as she bent over a small desk beyond the dinner table.

"Hello! What's up?" said Chivers stepping into the room.

"Let me see what you've got in your hand," he demanded.

The girl frowned. Then she brought her hand out from the folds of her cloak, and displayed a package of letters. "Wouldn't you like to read them?" she said pertly.

A candle stood on the desk and by its light Chivers recognized Manson's writing on the top envelope. "Why were you taking them from the desk?" he persisted.

Before she could answer Parkins came into the room. "Good evening, ma'am," he said in his stately manner. And to Chivers he added, "Shall I serve dinner, Mr. Chivers?"

Chivers glanced at the table; it was laid for two. He looked at the girl and met a provokingly mischievous smile. "Certainly, Parkins," he said and to the girl, "Let me take your cloak."

They had reached the salad course when the door from the porch was suddenly opened and a big man walked in. Chivers' back was toward the door, but he saw a look of surprise flash in the girl's eyes.

"Ah!" rumbled a deep voice. "Well, well, very pleasant. A little supper party, Jack?" The tone was not agreeable.

Chivers rose and stared at the newcomer.

"Why, it's Jack's uncle! Good evening Mr. Blythe. Don't you remember me, Phil Chivers?"

"Bless my soul! So it is." The large man took off his hat and held out his hand. "Please pardon my breaking in on the party."

"Only if you'll join us, Mr. Blythe," the girl answered sweetly, and rising drew another chair to the table.

Mr. Blythe sat down. The girl helped him to salad, offered him a cigarette, and held a candle for him to light it.

Chivers lapsed into silence, and when Parkins served the coffee he got up and strolled over to a side table in search of a box of cigars.

As he stood there he heard the door from the porch open a second time. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that the new arrival was Jack Manson, and that Manson was staring at the couple at the table.

"I say!" exclaimed Manson, "What's all this? It looks very pleasant. A little supper party, eh, Uncle Bill, in my bungalow?"

Mr. Blythe rose with dignity.

"Er—ah—Jack, this lady was so kind as to ask me to join her party."

Manson caught sight of Chivers.

"Hello, hello! Why, I didn't know Phil knew Ailsa Kempton."

"Oh, yes, we're old friends," said the girl quickly. "Do come in and let Parkins get you some fresh coffee."

"Righto!" agreed Manson.

Mr. Blythe was reaching for a candle to light a second cigarette, and as Manson passed the table on the other side the girl slipped the packet of letters into his hand. "Please give those to Mr. Chivers," she said; "he was curious about them."

Manson stepped into his bedroom and Chivers after him. "I saw her taking those letters from your desk," he said. "Luckily I stopped her."

Manson glanced at the package.

"Why you good old goat," he exclaimed, "she must have been bringing them back to me. And she might have gotten me into an infernal mess if she'd given them to the papers."

Chivers whistled.

"Who is the lady?"

"A bright star in the musical comedy sky," grinned Manson. "Some beastly press agent had a story in the papers this morning linking my name—'the nephew of William Blythe, the rubber king'—with that of Ailsa Kempton. I knew Uncle Bill would disown me if he read that, so I went up to town to tell him there was nothing in it, hoping these letters wouldn't get out. I couldn't find him. And Ailsa came out here to give them back to me, like the good sport she is!"

"I see," said Chivers. "I guess he read the paper. He seemed delighted to find I wasn't you."

A moment later Chivers stepped back into the living room, where Manson's uncle was helping the girl into her apricot cloak. "Oh, Mr. Chivers," said Ailsa, "Mr. Blythe has asked me to motor to town with him, and send my car away.

You won't mind if I do?"

Chivers rose to the occasion. "I'm desolated, dear lady. But if my loss is Mr. Blythe's gain, I'll try to make the best of it"