"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 7 October 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER VII. —(Continued). Smith, on the other hand, found her questions embarrassing, and tried to divert the conversation into other channels, only to find, however, that Mira returned to the point persistently. He wondered at this, feeling that he was being drawn out for some purpose, .and he racked his brains to think of the purpose. It was impossible that she knew he was a tramp, she would simply have ignored him. Finally, Mira came to the conclusion that Smith actually was a detective, while Smith became more firmly convinced that there was something behind her questions. Someone coughed behind them, and to Smith’s relief, a young man came forward to claim his dance.

When Mira had gone, Smith lingered on, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Lakin!” he muttered to himself. “Where have I heard that name before?—Lakin!” He shook his head, hopelessly. He was now more convinced than ever that he had heard it somewhere. “Oh, anyway,” he decided, “It’ll come to me,” and he went inside to Join Emmerson and Walford. These two gentlemen, finding no particular thrill in dancing, were enjoying themselves in their own way. They were still at the bar, having only left it long enough for Walford to dance with his wife. She had sought him out, and reminded him that there was a dance in progress, but the effort had been too much for Walford, and he had taken the opportunity of slipping away again when his wife was speaking to some friends. When Smith joined them, they were just discussing inviting him to a house party at- Emmerson’s country home. They had both taken a liking to Smith, who, although a stranger to them, was evidently a thorough gentleman.” “Why not?” said Walford. “A relative of the famous explorer, and a thoroughly interesting fellow. He’ll be an acquisition!” Both gentlemen, it may be mentioned, has possibly had one drink more than was strictly advisable, and with the addition of one or two more, would in all probability have extended the invitation to all present.

“Why not join us?” said Emmerson to Smith, as he came up. “We’re having a few friends down to Cranford Hall for a week or two.” Smith smiled. Surely no other tramp had ever found himself in such an amusing situation. Canford Hall. The very sound of it suggested wealth, culture, refinement. And they were seriously inviting him there. - Actually, nothing would have pleased him better than to be able to accept. Had he been in possession of some more clothes other than the dress suit he was wearing, he wouldn’t • have hesitated. It would be an adventure that would have appealed to him. Besides, he would have seen more of Miss Emmerson, and that would have been worth a good deal of risk. ‘‘l’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I’d like to, but I'm afraid it’s impossible.” . “Why?” argued Emmerson. ‘ Surely you could manage a week or two? We’re only a small party and we’d be delighted to have you. There s good hunting and fishing and,” he added confidentially, “a good cellar!” “But really,” began Smith again. “I couldn‘t, I ” “Rubbish! There’s no such thing as couldn’t. One would think the would would cease to revolve if you didn’t push it. “We’re leaving town tomorrow morning, and I’ll expect you before tomorrow night.” It seemed to Smith that the best way out of it would be to say he would come, and save awkward complications. If they began to enquire too closely into his reason for refusal, it would be embarrassing. He could always write later and apologise for not coming.

“Well,” he said at last, “it’s very kind of you, and if you insist —” “Of course, I insist,” broke in Emmerson. “I’ll show you some horseflesh , that will gladden your heart. Past, present and future champions.” “I’ll be going down in the afternoon,” said Walford. “How about coming down with me? “I’ll call for you if your like; there’s plenty of room. Where are you staying?” “Good Heavens!” thought Smith.. “Here’s another mess!” He thought

quickly. It was no use; he had to make some sort of explanation. “Thanks!” he managed to say at last, “but I’d only put you to a lot of inconvenience. You see, I might not be able to get away until pretty late.” A brainwave occurred to him. “As a matter of fact, I was just passing through Welburn, and my luggage has been sent on to Melbourne. I'd have 'to wait for some clothes. I could join you in a few days.” “Difficulties are made to be overcome,” said Emmerson, stepping back and surveying Smith, critically, “and I don’t think this one is insurmountable. You’re just about my son’s build. I think I could fix you up with some things until your own arrive.” He nodded his head in satisfaction. “Just fit you nicely. I’ll send my valet along with them in the morning I remember once on my way to Tasmania. the same thing happened to me. A friend asked me to stop in Melbourne for a few days. He fixed me up with some clothes, and when I got to Tasmania, my own things had got lost. I never saw the blessed clothes again, either. Had a devil of a time while I waited on some more being made and sent over. Smith didn’t know what to say. His excuses were being overcome as fast as he made them. “Thanks awfully.” he stammered, “but I—I—” “Damme!” burst in Emmerson. The man’s a fountain of buts! 111 ring up my valet right away and get him to pack some things and bring them down here tonight.” Emmerson walked off to the phone without waiting for an answer; and Walford slapped Smith on the shoulder. “That’s all settled, then; you re coming. Where will I pick you up? Again Smith had to do a bit of quick thinking. As he was passing along the river bank earliei - in the evening his eye had caught an electric sign outside an hotel. He thanked heaven for electric signs.

“I’m at the ‘Astoria,’ ” he said, haltingly, and his voice was so weak, he hardly recognised it. “What time will you be going through?” “We’ll pick you up at half-past two. That suit?”

“Admirably!” agreed Smith. He swallowed hard. These gentlemen didn’t know what they had started. . To refuse further was out of the question. He couldn’t tell them he was a tramp and had found the dress suit he was wearing. They were more or less forcing the situation, and it now rested with Smith himself whether he would go to Cranford Hall, or send the clothes back somehow. They had certainly made it possible for him to go; Emmerson providing clothes, and Walford offering him a run down in his car. And there was the possibility of further meetings with Mira. By jove, though, it would be rather awkward about this lift. He was supposed now to be living at the “Astoria” and Walford was going to call for him there. Even if he didn’t go, Walford would find out that he was a fraud. The though of such a thing annoyed him, and he was almost sorry he had come to the ball at all. It required serious thought. There was Shep to be considered, too. He couldn’t very well hide Shep in the shrubbery at Cranford Hall and pass out eats to him. The idea of abandoning Shep never occurred to him. He came to himself suddenly. Walford was saying something and he had only caught the last part of it. “—do you agree with me, Mr Smith?” he was saying. “Why—er—of course, Mr Walford. Certainly,” replied Smith, devoutly hoping that his answer suited the occasion. “Young blood, that’s what we want,” went on Welford. “Why, the asses are fifty years behind the times! Look at America! Now there’s a country. Where would they be today but for private enterprise?” The arrival of Emmerson at this moment saved the situation and relieved Smith of the necessity of a reply. “It’s alright,” he greeted. Everything’s set. I’ll expect you at Cranford Hall tomorrow.” “Thank’s Mr Emmerson!” said Smith. “It’s good of you to take all this trouble. It’s a bit of a nuisance being minus one’s gear.” “No trouble at all, Smith,” returned Emmerson, waving his arm as though dismissing the matter. “Glad to have you.” “Smith and I have just been discussing this most distressing Government of ours,” remarked Walford. “He agrees with me that it’s young blood we want.” I Smith looked at him vaguely. He hadn’t heard a word about the distressing Government until that moment. He was sincerely glad that Walford had done all the talking, and hadn’t noticed his preoccupation. CHAPTER VIII.

Smith’s eye, happening to catch the clock again, brought him to a realisa tion of his responsibilities. It was nearly two hours since Shep had anything to eat. “Time he had another supply of cakes,” thought Smith, and, with this object in view, he excused himself once more. He looked around him, and, seeing a waiter leaving the buffet with a trayful of cakes and sandwiches, he walked quickly after him. Coming up tc him, he lifted a plateful of cakes from the tray. . . “For some friends of mine in the conservatory,” explained . Smith, ingThe waiter nodded comprehendmgly, and passed on. Smith made his way to’ the window and repeated the performance he had gone through earliei in the evening. This time, however, Shep was taking no chances, and, as soon as Smith reached the window, he came forward and grabbed the cakes. “I’ll make sure of this lot, anyway,” he growled savagely. “That was sure a brainwave of yours leavin’ them on

the window sill.” “Why, Shep?” asked Smith, in surprise. “Just as I was goin’ to lift em oft, a blanky waiter passed along an’ beat me to it by a whisker. I might’ve knowed somethin’ like this would happen.” Smith whistled. “I’m sorry, Shep. I though I had provided for you for a couple of hours, at least. Never mind. I’ve got some news for you that will surprise you. Tomorrow we embark on a new adventure. I haven’t quite fitted you in yet, but I will.” Shep glared at him for a moment. His reply was somewhat unintelligible, as his mouth was full of cake. With a heroic effort, he swallowed it half masticated, nearly choking him-

self in the process. “If it’s got anythin’ to do with Bachelors’ Balls,” he spluttered, you can count me out. You sure get some of the craziest ideas. \ wish we a pawned that blinkin suit. “Wait till you hear the details.” said Smith, with a grin. “You'll be surprised.” , Shep snorted. “No fear. I wont; not if you do it.” He made his way back io the shrubbery, hugging his plateful of cakes, as though he feared a recurrence of his previous misfortune. Smith looked after the departing figure of his small friend with a smile on his face. He was genuinely sorry for the disappointment he had had with the first plateful of cakes. He knew hc-w hungry Shep had been. He had been just as bad himself until he had struck the buffet. Just as he was on the point of calling him back to give him a cigarette, a quantity of which he had collected at the bar, he heard a feminine voice at his elbow. For the second time that night he staited. A dozen possibilities seemed to occur to him in the space of time it took him to turn his head, but the smiling face which met his reassured him. It was Miss Emmerson, and she was wagging a reproving finger at him. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself she scolded. “That was our dance they just played.” “Oh!” exclaimed the crestfallen Smith.’ “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I've been in such close conversation with your father and Mr Walford tha I’d no idea it was so late.”

She smiled at the look of dismay on his face. “Anyway, I’m getting a bit tired, and I’ve excused myself for the next two or three dances,” she said. Here was an invitation not to be ignored. This time Smith felt no annoyance whatever. And he had nearly called Shep back to give him a cigarette. What a mess that would have been. This was Smith’s lucky day, and it was certainly Shop’s because if he hadn’t got that plateful of cakes, when he did, he would have been entirely forgotten. (To be Continued.)