The Cinema Murder

p Romilly's veins when he awoke the next morning to find an open porthole, the b

ready, sir, he can arrange for y

d and reached for his B

get back, sir," the steward continued.

found a queer sort of interest in examining his stock of ties and other garments. The memory of Elizabeth Dalstan's words was still in his brain. They had

he said. "I meant to bring them down

legram first and permitted himself a little start when h

e as promised? What

mpunction. It was written on the printed notepaper of the

Mr. Ro

king the train to Liverpool. There were one or two matters upon which I should like some fur

k I understood you to say that you had spoken to Mr. Henshaw at the bank

ccess on the other si

a

bedient

. PO

cations into pieces and watched them flutter away downwards, "that I am on my way t

f-closed eyes, to the hissing of the spray and the faint music of the wind. His mind turned by chance to one of those stories of which he had spoken. A sudden new vigour of thought seemed to rend it inside out almost in those first few seconds. He thought of the garret in which it had been written, the wretched surroundings, the odoriferous food, the thick cr

e next few minutes you must please devote yourself to making me comfo

aused before proc

der the electric lights of the saloon, or in that queer, violet gloom of

humouredly and tu

nd yet, believe me, slim. As a matter of fact," she went on pensively, "I am rather proud of my figure. A little journalist who had annoyed me, and to whom I was rude, once called it ample. No one has ever ven

night I thought they were grey. Thi

ghed, "but that was long ago, used to say that they reminded him of fallen leaves in a place where the sunlight sometimes is and sometimes isn't. And now, if you please, I want to be made exceedingly comfortable. I w

ing them, to his dismay, unexpectedly crude and unlifelike. And the story itself. Was unhappiness so necessary, after all? They suddenly seemed to crumble away into insignifica

ghed, "is worth talking to you about.

el

went on, with almost inspired convictio

murmured. "One can some

ess are bot

e, I wonder?" he

She seemed to be measuring with her eyes the roll of

"Tell me, are you in the habit of be

o speak of a tearing, unutterable loneliness, if I were to speak of poverty-not the poverty you know anything about, but the poverty of ba

pped a

he muttered. "

a little puzzled, "that you have

I have lived in a garret in London, teaching false art in a third-rate school some of the time, doing penny-a-line journalistic work when

, then," she observed,

d probably have been repenting it by

etting him into the light of her understanding, as though some one from the world, entrance into which he had crave

t would be! You are so wise, my new friend. You know the value of impulses. You tell me the truth, and I am your friend. I do not need facts, because facts count for little. I judge by what lies b

ut as much as I have spent in ten years. There is the possibility of other money. Conc

arked. "Do you continue,

the manuf

s head a li

't. I have risked everything for the chance of a new li

her pity, of a moistness in h

hings, now, whatever you may have done for your liberty, don't be fainthe

he assente

hts when you wrote it," she insisted. "I have a fan

lau

through the darkened spectacles? However, there's a way out-

y now and then he paused to tell her that this or that was new, and she nodded appreciative

ed before the companionway. "I am going down to my room for a few minutes before lunch

lieve that the planks he trod were of solid wood. Raymond

everywhere for a pal. Two Martinis, dry as you like, Jim," he added, tu

nic answer from the man

, an English boot manufacturer-Mr. Paul Lawton of Brockton. Mr. Lawton owns one of the largest boot an

a single moment's hesitation. He

awton on any subject in the world," he de

replied, shaking hands heartily. "I don't f

my word to myself to neither talk business nor think business. Your very good health, Mr. Raymond Greene," he went on,

Americans do hang round our businesses, and that's a fact. Still, there's a lit

of what?" Phili

ople and ours look different ways chiefly, that an

s cocktail. "What about luncheon? There's nothing in

eene chimed in. "You two can h

d's arm, and they desce

hief is a last

replied carelessly. "Something to

ed at him for a mom

an of your word!" he r