Shattering Glass. John Russell Fearn

isn’t an uncommon thing in love affairs, sir. Two men often love the same girl and are willing to let her make the choice. I think that is what happened in this case, except the positions were reversed. Two girls and one man.”

      “Mmm—maybe,” Calthorp agreed. “She must have been a girl of uncom­mon broad-mindedness. It is not the usual thing to find a woman willing to permit another woman in what she considers is her exclusive territory. However, it could happen, I grant you. And you couldn’t find out any more concerning Sylvia Cotswood?”

      “No. Of course, Joyce had never mentioned Sylvia’s address, or even if she lived in the same city. I’d hoped to get that from Richard Lane, but now I’m at a dead end.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      PERRY’S FRIENDS

      FROM the moment she had the diamond engagement ring placed on her finger, Moira had been constantly on the go. Ignoring her pleas that she pre­ferred solitude, Perry took her first to his London flat, where she met Pearson, the only existing member of the Lonsdale domestic staff, and then on to Brinhampton and the “Larches.” Pearson, who also acted as chauffeur, drove while Perry and the girl sat back and enjoyed the scenery.

      “I seem to be living in a dream,” Moira said, closing her eyes. “Every­thing happens so efficiently—and you pour out money as though it’s water. I’ve bought everything I ever thought of or even dreamed about.”

      “Including your trousseau,” Perry reminded her. “My part in the wedding business is a special license. We’re going to be married on Friday, exactly a week after our engagement. That’s a bit more of the efficiency you were talking about.”

      “On Friday!” Moira opened her eyes in surprise. “But I thought you said it was going to be marriage on the grand Lonsdale style? I’ve had visions of church bells, cheering spectators throwing confetti, dozens of your friends, the organ booming mightily—”

      “None of which you really care about,” he pointed out.

      “Well no, but if it pleases you....”

      “I thought better of it. After all, these are austere days. With this special license we can be married anywhere in the country, so why not at the Larches? Just the minister, a few friends. No more then four with two of them as witnesses. I’ve already written them. You’ll make their acquaintance when we get home—home being the Larches from now on. They’re turning up for a house-warming and, of course, will be with us until after the ceremony.”

      Moira nodded slowly, a somewhat wondering, bothered look crossing her face.

      “And after we’re married?” she inquired. “Where do we honeymoon?”

      “The south of France. Be a bit warmer. I’ve made reservations so there’s nothing to worry about.”

      “It will be wonderful, Perry—and you’ve planned everything so marve­lously—but didn’t you say that you have no staff at the Larches? That Pearson is the only man you’ve been able to get hold of so far?”

      “Pearson was down here yesterday engaging a new staff. Matter of fact he’s only been with me six weeks or so. Nothing has been overlooked. You’ll see.”

      Moira made no more observations on the subject, content with his assurance all would be well. Towards late afternoon they drew near a massive eighteenth-century type manor house. Moira watched as they approached it and her breathing quickened.

      “You mean you own that? That I’ll be the mistress of it?” she asked Perry eagerly.

      “If it appeals to you. If it doesn’t I can very soon buy another one.”

      “Appeals to me!” she gasped. “Why, I have never seen anything so marvelous. It looks to me like something out of fairyland! I’ve not been used to such wonderful things.”

      “Then don’t ever say so out loud,” he said, with gentle firmness. “I shall want my wife to act as to the manor born—and no pun intended. Now, get yourself ready—the folks will be waiting for us.”

      They were. Two young men and women came speeding down the broad steps and wrenched open the car doors. Moira recoiled a little as grinning faces studied her critically.

      “Have a heart!” Perry protested. Give the girl a chance to get to know you—”

      “Nothing doing, Perry,” one of them told him calmly. “First impressions are the most important. Mmm—so you finally managed it! Didn’t make any mistake in your choice, either—eh, Dick?”

      Both stood at mock attention as Moira stepped out of the car. She gave a quick glance about her and almost immediately found herself seized by the two young women.

      One was blonde, dumpy, and laughing; the other tall and dark, not unlike Moira herself. Laughing protestingly, Moira was swept into the great hall.

      Here she paused breathlessly and turned as Perry came in with the two young men hanging upon his arms.

      “Well,” said the one who had appraised Moira, “you wanted the house warmed and a cheerful welcome on the mat. You got it. Now what happens?”

      “You don’t have to be so confoundedly wholesale,” Perry objected. “Moira hates this kind of thing. She much prefers things quiet and secluded.”

      “That,” said the young man solemnly, “is positively morbid. In fact it is a condition which must be outgrown—and quickly.”

      “Take no notice of ’em,” Perry smiled, taking Moira’s arm and drawing her to him. “And while I’m about it, let me clear up the identities of this crazy quartet. This chap with the yellow hair and vacant expression is Dick Mills, one of the best navigators the R.A.F. ever had, and also my best friend.”

      “Grand knowing you, Moira,” grinned the young man. “Perry walked off with the prize after all—and that,” he added soothingly as his blonde companion gave him a sharp look, “isn’t meant to slight you, Betty darling. In any case, you are my type—honey-haired. So don’t start thinking things.”

      “This,” Perry went on, “is Dick’s wife—Betty.”

      “Take no notice of Dick,” Betty said cheerfully. “He’s always clowning. I’ve been married to him for five years and am sort of used to it.”

      Moira smiled and shook the hand held out to her. “I’m sure you’re both happy people,” she said.

      “And here’s Helen Ransome,” Parry said, as the dark-headed girl moved forward. “And Will Ransome—brother, not husband.”

      “Nice knowing you, Moira,” said the young man.

      “Very nice,” Helen agreed. “And don’t mind me staring at you a little, Moira, will you? I’ve been trying to think of whom you remind me.”

      “I?” Moira gave a little start. “Why who is it?”

      “Myself,” Helen decided, shrugging. “We look enough alike to be sisters. Same dark hair, same height, same build. I’m sure we must have a lot in common.”

      “I hope I shall have a lot in common with all Perry’s friends.” Moira replied.

      “Tell you what you do,” Perry said, catching Moira’s arm. “Just get acquainted while I see how Pearson has fixed up the domestics.”

      “Better still,” Helen Ransome said, “I’ll show you to your room—then we can go over the place if you like. I know every corner of it. When Perry and I were children we used to play here a lot.... Come along.”

      Moira nodded as Helen took her arm and together they went towards the massive staircase.

      “This business seems so sudden,” Helen said, as they ascended. “Or rather unexpected. Nothing to do with me, of course, and please don’t think I’m trying to be inquisitive, but how on earth did you manage to