OUR SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, 13 April 1928, Page 11

OUR SERIAL STORY

“LOVE’S STOWAWAY" j

By

JOHN L. CARTER

j4\l Rirhli RtMrttitd'. E

“Nevertheless, I mean to go,” said Ceeil inflexibly. ‘-Something tells me J must.’’ And yet We don’t know that she w&s even on the Beryl,” objected Briant. ‘’You’re banking on a thousand-to-one chanee.” 1 don’t care if it s a million-to-one chance,” said Cecil. “I’d never forgive myself if I let it slip.” There is not very much that money cannot do, especially in that country of dollars, America, and within twentyfour hours the two had reached Miami in Florida and John D. Briant had become the actual owner of the fastest motor-boat on that coast, with an expert crew of two all ready to be taken over. The following fortnight was a period of terrible anxiety and tremendous .activity for Cecil, though it’ was most depressing in its entire unavailingness. Systematically that motor-boat patrolled the coast line and almost every yard within fifty miles of the place where the dingy had been found. Every lump of rock and finest island was thoroughly searched, but no sign of any of the survivors of the Beryl was found. Dejected and broken Cecil allowed Mr. Briant to persuade him to give up the search. He returned to New York, but nothing would induce him to go back to Scotland. He felt that he must remain “to be on the spot when needed.” Then when hope had died a thousand times, he was ’phoned to call at Mr. Roger’s office. He was to lose no time. Mr. Rogers had good news for him. Cecil lost no time. He was inside Mr. Roger’s office within ten minutes. “Well, Lord Belden, you can really begin to hope at last,” said Rogers. “Read this. It was received at Mr. Knapp’s office half an hour ago.” And he handed to Cecil a typewritten copy of Molly’s S.O.S. message. Cecil’s face blanched as he read. Could this be true? Could he really believe that Molly lived? “Oh, thank God!” he cried. “But where is longitude seventy-two, latitude twenty-two?” ■Mr. Rogers shook his head. “It’s a mass of islands, anyhow,” he said. “And they’re only able to make a very rough calculation, . apparently. You might go on searching for ever and not spot the right one.” “I’m going to have a shot, anyhow,” said Cecil. “And I simply can’t fail. We’ll run several fast motor-boats.” “If you could get an aeroplane on the job, that’s the quickest,” said Rogers. “You could cover the whole group at a hundred-and-twenty miles an hour. And, what’s more, you can spot things much better from up above. Take my advice and try a water-plane.” “By Jove, I think you’re right!” said Ceeil. “Well, I’m off. Thanks awfully for the idea.

Ten minutes later he was tackling Mr. Briant, and before the day was out they had chartered the famous ace, Jimmy Baldwin, and a five-hundred horse-power Liberty-engined sea plane, and were actually on their way. They decided to make San Juan on Porto Rico their headquarters. Cecil, was sitting with the pilot as they cut along at two miles a minute. “They are the only two survivors, apparently, she and this Mr. Knapp,” remarked Baldwin. ‘They must have been there a couple of months, I suppose ?”

There was a curious inflection in his tone and Cecil looked at him sharply. What was the man driving at? And then he smiled. He could trust his little Molly to keep true, trust her alone with another man for a twelvemonth, if need be. No, the suggestion never gave him a single jealous pang. Before he allowed Baldwin to go to bed Cecil plied him with numerous questions; for instance, how could they expect to spot the castaways? Baldwin pointed put that if the survivors of the Beryl had been able to send a wireless message it was obvious that the yacht was not actually under water. That theft, was one thing they had o look for—a stranded yacht. Further, since Knapp had had the intelligence to get a wireless message through, he would have contrived some means by which to catch the eye of passing vessels, and, being an experienced flying-man himself, he would naturally prepare some ground signal—and what could be simpler and more effective than to spread three or four sheets or blankets on the ground in a triangle or square, which would instantly rivet the attention of a aeroplane flying overhead. I Knapp would be certain to do something of that sort, he insisted. That “approximate” longitude and latitude, was, thought Baldwin, so rough as to constitute an actual danger. It might prove to be misleading. For all that, as the sea-plane could keep ap a steady hundred-miles and hour, they would quickly scour a tremendous area, and, with luck, they should hit on the shipwrecked pair before very long. At last Baldwin insisted upon going to bed. After all, talking' would not help them much. And so the little party broke up, and Cecil promised to have them out of bed soon after dawn. CHAPTER HI. PARADISE ISLAND. ’/For three .'nights, *»*,' Molly had-suc-ceeded iii dispatching these bottled messages, to float whither the £“»' might

take them. And then, on the fourth night, George caught her in the act. She had just set her box of bottles on the raft preparatory to paddling out past the reef, when she heard a cry from the. shack. “No you don't!” It was George, and he came hurrying •after her, splashed through the. surf and climbed onto the raft, where he •crouched obviously overcome by the CX'ertion. | “Be careful of your wound!” she cried. “What’s that to you?” he flung at her. "Little you care.” “Of course I care,” she protested. “You don’t mean to tell me that you weren’t trying to make off in the raft?” he cried. Molly stared at him, aghast. “Why, I never thought of such a thing!” she declared. “It would be simply madness to attempt to reach the land on a raft like this.” George was not convinced, however. “It only shows how much you’d loathe to stay here with me,” he said grimly. “To me, it’s Paradise Island.” “You’re wrong, George,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to get away. Surely you can’t think so badly of me as that. Do you think anything on earth would make me leave you here, all by yourself?” George looked her over suspiciously; then, convinced that she was speaking the truth, he said: “Well then, what were you after—going out on the raft in the middle of the night?” It was then that he noticed the box of bottles. “Why, of course you were intending to get to land!” he cried, his suspicions again aroused. “You were taking those full of water, surely?” Molly was afraid, afraid for him to find out just what she had been doing. She knew that she had a perfect right to send those messages, and yet, she was afraid of what he would say. “You can’t explain away those bottles of water. Why attempt it?” he cried. And he pulled one out of the box. It ’ was then that he saw’ the piece of paper within. He opened his mouth in utter astonishment.

“So, this is your substitute for wireless, is it?” he cried. “Oh yes, you mean to get away from me, if that’s humanly possible!” He unfastened the screw stopper, pulled out the piece of paper, and read it. Then in a fury .of vexation he flung the bottle into the sea. “George, don’t make such 'a trouble of things,” urged Molly anxiously.

“You seem to be set on only one thing,” he grumbled, “and that is, to get away from me.” “Not from you, George,” she insisted. “From the island—yes.”

“It's the same thing, and you know it is,” he growled. “Let’s be quite frank. The truth is, that, if I can keep you here a little longer you’ll give way. You know you will. -Why shouldn’t you? After all, what's wrong with me? I know I’m only an ordinary sort of fellow, still, I’d give you a square deal as my wife, and you know it. Molly, why can't’ you listen' .to reason? We could be so happy, we two. You know we could. As for that about Lord Belden, after- all, you scarcely knew him, really. It was just a fancy, yes, a passing fancy. Molly dear, I do Jove you so! I’d give my whole life to make you happy. I swear I would.” He put his hand over hers, as they knelt within a couple of feet of each other on that rocking raft. Molly neverthought -to withdraw her hand. She was much too bewildered and unhappy. ”1 swear you’d never regret for one moment,” he went on. “I’d simply spend my life, my last drop of blood, in striving to make you happy, dear.” Molly could bear no more. Suddenly she began to sob. It amazed even herself. She supposed it was more hysterical than anything—only, his suffering was really too terrible for her to endure, especially since she could not help him at all. Poor George seemed so utterly bewildered and broken at the realisation that his love was not to be returned. At the moment she would have given almost everything to have made him happy. “Poor old George!” she said tenderly- “ Don’t George! Please don’t upset yourself over me.” He had seized her hands now, and was pulling her towards him. “Molly! Molly dear!” he cried. “Why should we let anything upset us? We were made for each other. That’s why God put us here alone, to make us realise it. Molly! Molly dear! you’re min© now, all mine.” ’

Molly was struggling to respl> control of herself. Indeed she felt angry, impatient with her emotions. It was as though they had attempted her betrayal. She had had no wish to break down. Far from it. His yielding to his feelings was more than enough; why should she behave in this absurd way? “Molly dear! don’t cry! it will break my heart,” he cried, his voice strangely broken. “George dear, I can’t bear it,” she sobbed. “Let me go dear. Oh, I'm so sorry! Terribly so, but, it's no good.’’ George clung to her, held her more tightly. , “Molly dear, there’s no harm at all," he whispered. “I must just hold you.” He was pressing his face against hers now. Molly felt impelled to scream. What must she do? This was terrible! And all the time she felt so sorry for him. She would have given anything, °«i thing in hex power. tc have made

him happy, to have ended his agony. “I feel such a broken thing now,” he moaned. “That shot seemed to have done for me, and then, you brought me back to life. And now, well, -what is life worth unless I can have you, Molly dear? Take pity on me, little girl, 'or God’s sake!” Then, to L?r astonishment, she heard him. give a rending sob. That Sob tote her own heart, made her feeL unspeakably callous, guilty, After a)l, c.oiiid be

be blamed? It wasn’t his fault that they two had been thrown together all these weeks. Oh, if only she could do something to comfort him, to stop tha terrible sobbing, which seemed so foreign to his essentially masculine make-up. In the end she put her arms round him as she would have done to a sobbing child, aiid, tightening them, pressed her face ’ soothingly' against hie "wetcheek. - 1 ‘ '' .-■■••"’ •'“Oh don’t Gcoigel Don'ti”-''«®v Tlend-

cd. “I can’t bear yon to suffer so!* “It’s only words,” he groaned un« happily. "You don’t mean anything, Molly.” He said it so fiercely, so bitterly, it stung her. (To fee continued.)