"SECOND TIME WEST"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 30 August 1938, Page 12

"SECOND TIME WEST"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

T. C. BRIDGES

(Author of “Watching Eyes,” “Seven Years’ Sentence,” etc.)

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. “That suit will never be the same again,” said Jim. “Hulloa, I believe he wants to resume hostilities.” '“Don’t Jim. Don’t fight any more unless you have to,” begged Joan in a low, intense voice. Indeed I won’t unless I have to. He nearly cracked my ribs for me as it was. Fame came up to them and he was not a pretty sight. He was blue with cold, and it was clear that his plunge into the river had shaken him badly. It had done something else for it had cooled his temper as well as his body. Jim faced him warily. He wondered what was coming. He was not in the least afraid because he had got his wind back and knew that he was now much fitter of the two. Fame spoke. “You had luck, Chernocke. Maybe next time it will be different.” Jim would have dearly liked to finish it then and there, but for Joan’s sake restrained himself. t “Any time you say, Mr Fame. You know my address.” Fame looked at him and the malice in his pale eyes was horrible. “It will come,”, he said. “No man ever ran against me without being sorry for it.” Before Jim could think of anything to say Fame turned and walked away up to the fishing path. Jim spoke to Joan. “Joan, that settles it. You must come home with me.” Joan looked at him quickly. “Have you a wife, Jim?” “No.” Jim hesitated. Somehow he hated to tell Joan that he was engaged, but he had to do it. “No, but my fiancee, Nita Vaughan, and her mother are staying at Kilcomen. Also I have an excellent housekeeper. You’ll be well looked after,” Joan laughed. “I’m sure I should, but I’m not coming, Jim”' “Joan, you can’t possibly go back to the house Fame is living in.” “I’ve been there nearly, a month,” Joan said quietly. “So.far I’ve come to no harm.”

“But he pushed you—almost struck you. It’s impossible. Come with me.” Joan laughed again. “I think I see Mrs Vaughan’s face when you turned up with .me in towYou see, I know of the lady. No, Jim, nothing doing. I’m going back to Muir Cottage to cook supper. Her tone left no room for argument, and Jim gave up the direct issue. “But I must see you again, Joan,” he pleaded. • “Not at Muir Cottage. Mr Bignal would be certain to recognise you and that would be dangerous.”

“Then you’ll meet me here tomorrow.” “I can’t promise, but, if I am able, I will walk this way about four tomorrow afternoon.” , “By that time I shall have found a job for you. You will let me do that, Joan. I should be miserable to feel that you were tied to the horrible Bignal.” He was so desperately in earnest that Joan relented a little. Besides she could not hide from herself that it would be heaven to be independent -of her step-father. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Now you must get back. As it is, you will be late for dinner.” “Damn dinner,” Jim exploded. “I meet the best pal I ever had and have a thousand things to say to her, and she tells me to go home to dinner.” Joan laid a hand on' his arm. “You shall say ' all those things tomorrow. I don’t want more unpleasantness when I get home. Good-night Jim.” She turned and walked quickly away and Jim watched her .till she was out of sight. Then -he picked up his rod and creel and started home. “Damn everything,” he said bitterly, but the reason for this sudden outburst he did not allow himself to analyze. CHAPTER HI. “You’re a nice chap,” came a clear, ringing voice as Jim plodded up the steep drive leading to Wilcomen. Looking- up he saw a tiny, dainty figure in an evening gown of black and silver standing on the steps of the porch. “Holloa, Nita!” he said. “Sorry to be late.” “Late! Why, what’s the matter?” Her tone changed. "Have you been swimming?” Jim laughed. It was a forced laugh, and that did not escape Nita, who was sharp as a needle. “I have. I had a little trouble with a gentleman who said I was poaching. That’s why I’m so late.' I’m terribly sorry. Nita.” “My dear, I don’t mind. It’s only mother. She raised Cain when she found you weren’t here to meet us. However, Bill soothed her wih a cocktail and she has survived. But tell me who threw you in.” She caught him by the arm. “No don’t wait to tell me now. You’re all wet. Go and change. The story will do to pacify mother at dinner.” Jim looked at her gratefully. . “You’re a dear, Nita. I can’t kiss you because I should ruin that pretty frock. I’ll go and change but don’t wait, dinner for me. I’ll trust you to explain,” She gave him a little hit. “Hurry, Jim.”

Nita must have done a good job in explaining for when Jim arrived, having dressed in record time. Mrs Vaughan accepted his apologies with as much grace as was in her. ' Nita says you had a fight with a man,” she said in her high, quick voice. “Do tell us. I hope you thrashed him. Let us hear all about it.” “It didn’t amount to much,” Jim answered. “I followed a fish on to the Muir Cottage water and the lessee came up and objected. He wanted the fish. So we had a row and it ended in both of us going into the river. That cooled us off and we both went home. That’s all there is to it.” “All!” Nita mocked. “Jim, you may be a good fisherman, but you’re the world’s worst story teller.” “I’ve got the fish anyhow,” said Jim. “A five pound sea trout. You shall eat it tomorrow.” Nita was not to be put off. “I don’t care whether it was a sea trout or a red herring,” she retorted. “Who was this man you put in the water?”

“An American by his voice. Big beefy chap with arms on him like a grizzly. It was just as well for me we did go over the bank or he’d have cracked my ribs.” “An American!” exclaimed Nita’s mother. “How can Scottish lairds rent their lodges to such people?” “You couldn’t call Muir Cottage- a lodge,” Jim answered. “And it’s owned by a Dundee tradesman. I don’t sup-

pose the man will stay long, so it's not likely there’ll be any more trouble.”

“I shall go fishing with you next time, Jim,” declared Nita. “And take my camera.” Jim laughed and managed to turn the conversation into less dangerous channels, but later, when Nita and her mother had gone to bed, he told Bill Beverley the whole story. “And see here, Bill,” he ended. “You’ve got to take Nita off my hands tomorrow afternoon for I’m going to meet Joan. It makes me simply sick to think of her living under the same roof with that swine, Fame.” Bill Beverley wrinkled his nose, a trick he had when puzzled or interested. He was a tall lean young man with a thin tanned face and keen dark eyes. Between him and Jim Chernocke was an almost perfect friendship. “Why don’t you tell Nita?” he asked abruptly. Jim’s eyes widened. “About Joan? She—she wouldn’t understand.”

“She’d understand perfectly,” Bill said. Jim shook his head. “I couldn't do that, Bill. Imagine what her mother would think —and say?” “Her mother needn’t know anything about it. But.if you won’t tell Nita we shall have to fix up something. You could have a cold after your ducking.” - “Nita knows I never have a cold. That’s one of the few things I boast about,” Jim objected. 1 ' “Then it’ll have to be a wire from McGowan at Perth. I’ll phone him in the morning and tell i him to send one saying he must see you at once.” “But we shall have to get Nita and her mother out of the way.” “That’s all right. It’s the sheepdog trials at Pitlochdy tomorrow. I’ll take them in the car.” “Trust you to settle things, Bill,” said Jim gratefully. He ground out the stub of his cigarette in’ 1 the ash tray and got up. “I’m going to bed. So long.”

Bill Beverley’s ruse worked to perfection, and at four next afternoon Jim was awaiting Joan at his own boundary wall. Time passed, there was no sign of her and Jim began to get restless. He had begun to feel that there was no one in the world, whom he wanted to see as badly as Joan, and that quite apart from his keen desire to help her. This worried his simple soul for it seemed disloyal to Nita.

“Damn it all!” he said to himself. “A man can’t be in love with two girls at once.” He looked at his watch. It was a risk for Bignal was more than likely to recognise him, but Jim felt he had to take the risk. / The river curved and there was Muir Cottage, a small white house standing on. a piece of rising ground, with a garden running down to the water. No one was about, the front door was closed, the blinds were down and the deserted look of the place' gave Jim a thrill of dismay. He waited a long time and at last a man came but of the back door, went up into the field above the house, and began to drive down a cow. Jim recognised him as the hind, John Macdonald, and went straight across. “Is Miss Chandler at home, Macdonald?” he asked. “She’s left, Sir James. Mr Bignal and Mr Fame and Miss Chandler left by car just after breakfast this morning.” Now that Macdonald had told him ■what had happened, Jim Chernocke felt that he had known it ever since he had first set eyes on the closed house. For all that, the shock was a heavy one. “Where have they gone? Have they left an address?” he asked Macdonald.

“They didn’t leave any address, Sir James. The rent was paid for the whole month, and they could’leave any time they were wishing to.” “What road did they take?” They took the Perth road. I’m thinking they’ll have caught the fast train which leaves for the South at eleven.” Jim saw curiosity in the man’s eyes, and thought best to explain.

“Miss Chandler is an old friend of mine, Macdonald. I met her on the river yesterday, and she wished to see me again.” A slow smile appeared on Macdonald’s lips. “Maybe ye met yon Fame, Sir James, as well as the leddy.” “Yes, I met him, and we had some trouble about a fish which I hooked on my water and landed on his.” “And ye put him in the river?” “As a matter of fact, we both went in,” Jim told him. ■ Macdonald chuckled openly. “The peety is ye didna leave him there. The warld would ha’ been the cleaner.” “You didn’t like him, Macdonald?” “I ha’ never met a mon I liked less,' said the other-drily. Jim couldn’t help smiling. “He’s a nasty piece of work, Macdonald. But tell me —did Miss Chandler leave any message for me?” “Not with me, Sir James—but then she hadn’t the chance. They went so sudden —she’ll maybe write,” he added. “There a chance she might have left a note in the house,” Jim said. “Aye, there’s the chance,” agreed Macdonald, and led the way to the house. It was quite small, a sittingroom, dining-room, and kitchen below stairs, four bedrooms above. In the sitting room were vases of flowers no doubt picked by Joan herself, but though he searched everywhere, Jim found no letter or anything that might give him the clue he needed. A pile of ash in the grate showed that Fame or Bignal had burned a quantity of papers. As a last hope he went upstairs. Joan’s room, in spite of signs of hurried packing, was the neatest in the house. Jim looked round. He could see no letter, but he noticed a book lying on the little table by the bed. It was Stevenson’s “Kidnapped.” He picked it up, opened it, and a letter fell out. His heart gave a jump as he saw the envelope bore his name. “I have it, Macdonald,” he said, as he tore it open. This is what he read:— “Dear Jim, I know you will come to the house when you miss me and I hope you will find this. I have had to hide it because Fame is suspicious. He and my stepfather had a violent quarrel last evening. Mr Bignal told him that he had been a fool to attack you as he did, and that you might summon him for assault. In the end they” decided to leave. It have no idea where we are going. It may be London, it may be Liverpool. So I can give you no address. Im

any case you had better forget me, Jim. I am grateful to your wish to help me, but I don’t think you can do so. Be slire I shan’t marry Fame —if that is any comfort to you. All my good wishes and hopes that you - will be happy. Cordially, Joan.” Jim bit his lip. The letter disappointed him but it did not in the least change his determination to get Joan away from Bignal and Fame. He turned to Macdonald. “No telephone here, is there?” “No, Sir James. Your’s is the nearest” Jim nodded and took a note from his pocket book. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything, Macdonald.” “I will that,” promised the other. “I’m thanking ye, Sir James.'' Jim walked back in forty minutes and went straight to the telephone. He called up Perth Station and, after some delay, learned that Bignal’s party had left for. London. Before he could make his mind what best to do, he heard the car on the drive and went out to meet Nita and his mother. As soon as possible he got Bill aside and told him everything. “What do you want to do about it?” Bill asked bluntly. “I want to follow them and get Joan out of the clutches of those two brutes.” “Then you’ll have to tell Nita,” said Bill flatly. “I don’t mind telling her for I think she’d understand. But her mother won’t.” “We can find a lie for her,” Bill answered. “You have some property in America.” (To be Continued).