"SECOND TIME WEST"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 1 September 1938, Page 12

"SECOND TIME WEST"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

T. C. BRIDGES

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

CHAPTER V.—(Continued). But Jim Chernocke was not the sort to sit still and moan over his misfortunes. Fame was hardly out of the house before Jim was hunting for a a way out of his prison. The door was hopeless, for if, as Fame had said, it was covered with sheet iron, it was no use trying to cut through a panel. He turned to the window, and, as it would not open, smashed the glass with a leg of the broken chair, and tried the bars. There were three of these cemented firmly into the sill, and no rust about them, either. He tried the cement with the point of his knife, but it was hard as iron. The only other way_of escape was the fireplace, but a very brief inspection proved that the chimney was far too narrow for anything larger than a small monkey: Still, Jim did not give up. There might be a cellar under the room. He pulled up the drugget and set to work on the floor. The boards were thick and soli,d and he could not get his knife blade between them. By this time he was getting hot and bothered. He sat down on the one remaining chair, and began to consider the chances of outside help. They were not rosy. Somewhere about lunchtime Bissett would ’phone the Cosmopolis, and finding him out, would probably start inquiries. In the long run he might possibly get hold of the taxidriver, but, even if he did so, and found where Jim was imprisoned, it would be many hours before there was Famb, Bignal and Joan would be well any hope of release, and by that time on their way to America. “Or all the darn fools, I’m surely the worst!” Jim groaned, and in despair he pushed the chair to the window, got on it, and shouted through the bars. “That you, sir?” The reply was so unexpected that Jim. nearly fell off his chair, but he recovered quickly and called loudly in reply. With intense relief he saw his sturdy taxi-man pushing his way beneath the thick branches of the big yew. “What’s up, sir? You hurt? the man inquired. “Not hurt. I’m locked in.”, “Huh, I thought summat was wrong,” replied the other. “First I seed that big blighter come back, and I knowed you wasn’t wanting him. Then I seed a woman come out carrying a bag, and arter that the big chap hisself, in the devil’s own hurry. When you didn’t show up I reckoned it were time to get arodnd.” “Thank God, you did!” said Jim. “See here —by the way, what’s your name?” “Trant, sir—Noah Trant.” “Listen, Trant! You’ve got to get me out quickly, and I don’t want the police in this. Every minute counts.” “Perlice! What wants perlice? I’ll have you out in two ticks!” He was turning when Jim stopped him. “It’s no use trying the door. The front door is locked, and the door of this room is sheet iron. The window is the only way, and I don’t know how you’ll make it., The bars are solid and set in cement.” “Don’t you worry,” replied Trant reassuringly. “I’ll have them bars out all right. Just wait a jiffy till I get something to shift ’em.” He was off and for a heavy man it was wonderful how quickly he moved. Jim had hardly time to wondpr what Trant would do when he was back carrying an old packing-case and a heavy crowbar. “Bit o’ luck!” he remarked. “Found this here bar in the out-house. Saved me going back to the garridge.” He climbed on the case, and, inserting the crowbar between one of the win-dow-bars and the wall, put his weight on it. The window bar bent, he took a fresh grip, tried again, and, with a sharp crack, the bar broke away from its fastenings, and fell with a clatter. “Can you make it, sir?” Trant asked, but the question was hardly out of his mouth before Jim was half-way out. Trant gave him a hand, and Jim jumped safely to the ground. “Wot next?” Trant asked.

“Nearest telephone,” Jim said briefly, and in a very few minutes was in a kiosk, ringing up Martin Bissett. “He is out, Sir James,” was the answer in a feminine voice. “Out!” Jim repeated. “When will he be in?” “I can’t say. It may be an hour. He didn’t tell me when he’d be back.” Jim swore under his breath. Every minute counted. Trant had said that Fame was in the devil of a hurry. For all Jim knew he and Joan and Gignal might already be on their way to a port. CHAPTER VI. Jim spoke again through the ’phone. “I’ll come to the office and wait for Mr Bissett. It’s urgent. If he comes in before I arrive ask him to wait for me.” He hung up, hurried back to the waiting taxi and gave Trant the address in John Street. Arrived at Bisset’s office, he told him to wait. “I may be some time,” he added. “That don’t matter, sir,” Trant answered, and by his tone was evidently enjoying the excitement. Bissett was not in and there was no word of him so Jim sat down to wait. It seemed an hour, but was actually only twenty minutes before the door opened and the enquiry agent came in. Jim did not waste an instant in telling what had happened, and Martin Bissett's eyes widened a little as he listened. “It was the Mermaid Line Office Fame visited. ’’ Jim ended. “That was probably a blind,” said Bisset. “I don’t know yet what line Fame has booked by, but I am hoping to hear at any minute. The odds are that, if he is leaving today, he is going by the Ruritania from Southampton. There is no fast boat before the Berlin no Friday.” He paused and looked at Jim. “But you have him all ends up, Sir James,” he went on. “Shutting you up like that -is a pretty serious offence. If I’d been you I should have gone straight to the nearest police station.” Jim got rather red. “And a pretty fool I should have looked, Mr Bissett.” A shadow of a smile showed on the other’s solemn face. “That’s true,” he began, and just then the telephone bell rang. Bissett listened a moment. “All right, Wharton,” he said and replaced the receiver. “It is the Ruritania,” he told him. “And if you want to catch the boat train you’ll have to hurry. It leaves Waterloo at eleventhirty.” Jim glanced at the clock. It > was just on the quarter past. He 1 sprang up and grabbed his hat.

“I have a taxi. We may just make it.” “I’ll come with. you,” said Bissett. “I don’t want you getting into more trouble,” he, too, seized his hat and reached the street as quickly as Jim. “Waterloo,” said Jim to Trant. “Can you do it in a quarter of an hour?” “It ain’t possible—not with the traffic there is now. Best thing is to take you to Tottenham Court Road Station. You can do it by Tube in ten minutes.” “All right,” Jim answered. “Go ahead.” At the station Jim waited just long enough to tell Trant to come to Waterloo, and if they had left, to call later at Bissett’s office. Then he and Bissett rattled down the steps. Luck was against them for, as they reached the platform, a train went out. They had to wait three minutes for the next, and when they reached Waterloo, the boat train had just left. Jim did not waste time in groaning. “We must have a special,” he declared. “Not at this hour. There’s too much traffic. Ask if you like, but I’m sure.” “Then a ’plane,” He hurried of and rang up Croydon Aerodrome. After a little delay he was told that he could have a taxi-plane, but that the weather report spoke of thunder-storms along the South Coast, and he was; warned that a plane might be delayed. “Better try a car,” Bisset said when Jim told him. “The ship doesn’t sail till two. It’s only seventy-five miles by road and with any luck we may do it.’ Jim merely nodded and ran out. Just as they got outside Trant drove up. “We want a fast car in a hurry,” Jim told him. “Jump in,” was all Trant said and whirled them off to a garage in Waterloo Road. “Got the Superspeed, Joe?” he asked of the proprietor. “She’s in. You wanting her?” “And quick,” said Trant brieflly. He turned to Jim. “Southampton, ain’t it?” t i “That’s it. Think we can do it by two?” “If you let me drive.” “I’ve handled a racing car, myself,” said Jim. “But not in traffic, sir. And I know the road.” “All right,” Jim answered. The Superspeed was not new, but she was in good order, and Trant certainly knew how to handle her. The way in which he slipped through the traffic stirred Bissett’s admiration. “Something out of the usual for a taxi driver,” he remarked to Jim. “Where did you find him.” “Quite by chance.” “You were lucky,” said Bissett briefly and Jim agreed. But it was not yet that he knew quite how lucky he had been in picking up Noah Trant. Clear of London Trant put his foot down and the needle began to> touch sixty, ’ but it was not until they were past Woking that he really let her out. Jim had never driven or been driven at eighty on the open road, but he was doing it now and quite happy about it, for Trant’s control of the big car was perfect, and he seemed to know the road as well as he knew Piccadilly. The morning had been fine, but very hot, and now ominous clouds in the south-west reminded Jim of the Croydon warning. “Good job we didn’t try flying,” he said to Bissett. Bissett nodded.

“Yes, that’s a bad storm,” he said briefly, and as he spoke a crooked streak of fire split the piled up purple, and a little later came the air-shaking rumble of the first peal. Jim hoped against hope that they might escape it, but soon he could see a grey wall ahead while the rumble turned to an almost continuous roar. Ten miles on the London side of Winchester they hit it. Jim had seen electric storms in New Mexico but never one to beat this. It wasn’t rain but hail and the rattle of it on the road and the roof of the car drowned the thunder. It grew almost dark, but a darkness lit by long lines of darting fire of blinding intensity. Trant switched on the headlights but the only result was to turn to hail into a white wall through which it was impossible to see. He spoke to Jim. “No use, sir. I’ll have to slack up.” “Better stop,” Jim said. “It can’t last.” “I’ll shift on a few yards. Don’t like these trees,” Trant answered, and the words were not out of his mouth before there was a white-hot blaze, a report like a shell bursting overhead followed by a rending crash. Trant stepped on the brake and stopped the car just as a great fir toppled across the road in front of them, so close that one of the smaller branches actually struck the bonnet. CHAPTER VII. Bissett passed his hand across his eyes. “That’s about as close as I like it,” he said drily. “It don’t strike twice in the same place,” Trant told him. “It’s all right. Car ain’t hurt.” “But the road’s blocked,” Jim said anxiously. The hail ceased, or rather turned to rain and Traint backed the car. But Jim was right. The road was blocked, for the tree was all across it. They had to turn and make a detour. The rain came down in such torrents that anything like fast driving was out of the question. Twice they had to drop to bottom gear and push through flooded stretches, and the clock on the dashboard showed two before they reached the outskirts of Southampton. Jim insisted on pushing on the docks, but the Ruritania was already out of sight in the mist. “I’m real sorry, sir,” said Trant and he looked so downcast that Jim had to swallow his disappointment and laugh. “I think lunch is indicated,” said the practical Bissett, so they drove to an hotel and fed excellently. Jim ate in silence and Bissett saw that he was upset. ~ . ■, “There’s no need to worry, he said. “You can catch the Berlin on Friday and be in New York less than a day after the Ruritania. Meantime why not send a cable to Miss Chandler telling her to meet you in New York?” “But she has no money,” Jim objected. „ , . “That’s easily settled. We can cable a credit to my agent in New York. I can have her met at the pier if you like.” Jim cheered up. "We’ll cable money, but we had better not have her met at the pier. Fame would know that it was my doing.”

“Very well. You can explain it all to Miss Chandler in your cable.” Jim frowned. “Suppose Fame gets hold of the message.” “That’s quite simple. Warn the operator to be sure the message is put into Miss Chandler’s hands when she is’ alone.” “There are a lot of things you know and I don’t” Jim said ruefully. “And quite a few the other way on,” replied Bissett. “For instance, I could not rope a steer or use a pistol,” Jim smiled. The staid Bissett on a cow pony, wearing chaps and a two-gallon hat, would be amusing. Bissett finished the apple which was his dessert and got up. “I’ve got to be back at the office by five. Shall we be moving?” Jim paid the bill and presently they were in the car again. The rain had stopped, the sun shone, the country looked very lovely. If Jim had not been so anxious he would have enjoyed the drive. They took Bissett to his office, where Jim wrote the cable for Joan. It was to be sent later that night so that Joan would get it first thing in the morning. Then Trant drove Jim back to the Cosmopolis. ’’Haven’t enjoyed a day so much for years,” said Trant rather wistfully as Jim got out, “but I wish I’d caught that there boat for you.” “No fault of yours,” Jim answered then paused as a sudden idea seized him. “Trant are you married?” he said. “Not me,” said Trant with a grin. “Are you keen on your job?” “There’s worse,” Trant answered laconically, “but not many.” “How would- you like to go to America?” “Me!” Trant’s eyes glowed. Jim hadn’t realized that the man could show so much excitement. “You means along with you?”