"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 14 October 1938, Page 12

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER XL. —(Continued). “Now, what does that mean?” he said, as much to himself as Mira. “Smith’s valet with 'our suitcase?” He started pacing backwards and forwards trying to think this new problem out Presently he stopped in front of Mira. “What do you think of it?” “I don’t know what to think of it,” she confessed. “No, you wouldn’t.” He began pacing again, talking in the meantime. “Well, there are two possibilities. Smith and his friend the valet are either police, or else they’re the two tramps from Suicide Bend. No one else could have that case.” Again he stopped. “Anyway, what does this valet fellow look like?” “A little chap. That’s about all I saw of him. I was too much surprised at seeing our suitcase to take much notice of him.” “Then they’re not the detectives. They’re the tramps. That will be the little runt who stole our basket.” Mira looked at him hopefully; then her face clouded again. “Where did they get the clothes?” she asked. “Um! I can’t answer that one,” replied Lakin more soberly. “Even if the tramps found the case, I don’t think they’d find the fivers—but they might. If the police had the suitcase they’d hardly bring it here, would they? That is, if it really is our suitcase?” “It’s ours all right.” “Then they must ■be the tramps. I don’t know where they got the clothes, but I can’t imagine the police bringing the case here, unless ” „ “Unless what?” asked Mira, whose fear was ready to return at the slightest hint. “Unless they .intended one of us to see it, thinking perhaps I would go after it and incriminate myself.” This was a possibility which Mira hadn’t thought of, and her spirits sank accordingly. “I’ll have to think this thing out,” continued Lakin, sinking down on his chair again. “By the way, you didn’t let them see that you had noticed it, I hope?” “He didn’t see me,” assured Mira. “Well, I'll watch these two gentlemen and get the strength of them. If they’re detectives they’ll show themselves in good time. If they’re tramps, I fail to see how they can carry themselves through here. This Smith fellow doesn’t look like a tramp; but we’ll see. Better get dressed for dinner; there’ll be plenty of time for observation.” “And what are you going to do about the suitcase?” asked Mira, as she prepared to leave. “I’ll think that out, too,” he replied. “If this precious pair are police the suitcase wouldn’t do much good to us ho, anyway. There won’t be a corner of it that hasn’t been well searched.” Lakin sat on for some time after Mira had gone, trying to think the whole puzzling business out. It would be a great relief to Lakin to find that Smith was a tramp, but how he had managed to get here if he was a tramp was a mystery. One of the tramps had been a little fellow, and Smith’s valet was a little fellow. Lakin, who knew a good deal about detectives, had never known a small one, although this in no way means that there weren’t any. He would have given a good deal to find out for certain, even though the information would have to have been kept to himself. He couldn’t expose Smith without some explanation as to how he had obtained his knowledge. It was a problem. In his suitcase there might be all the five pound notes he had carefully hidden, and yet, it might all be a trap. Presently he rose, as though making up his mind, and crossed to a telephone in a corner of the room. He gave a trunk call number, and hung up the receiver. When he had almost finished dressing, his number came through.

“Hello!” he answered the voice at the other end of the wire. “Who’s speaking. Oh, it’s you, Tim. Listen! I want you to take a car and get here as soon as possible. Yes, it’s me. Right cut about twenty-five miles past Weyburn. I’ll be waiting for you on the road. Yes, just alone. Very good. Good-bye.” While Lakin and Mira had been discussing Smith’s valet, that gentleman had been inquiring his way to Smith’s room. He was feeling absolutely at sea in the elaborate surroundings in which he found himself, and, to regain his waning confidence, he felt that he must see Smith immediately. He was not at all certain that Smith had managed to establish himself yet, and he wanted to get his immediate line of action before any one started asking him any questions. Arriving outside the door, to which he had been directed by an aweinspiring butler, he knocked rather timidly. The familiar voice of Smith bade him enter and, breathing a sigh of relief, Shep opened the door, and went in. “Ah!” greeted Smith. “My valet, and just in time. I was beginning to think I’d have to have dinner sent up to me. Lay out my dinner suit, valet!” Shep made no reply. lie marched over to a corner near the wardrobe and bumped the suitcases down. This done, he turned and surveyed Smith 'steadily. “Well?” said Smith, inquiringly. It was clearly evident that Shep had something to say. “I don’t like this business at all.” . “You surprise me, Shep. I thought you would have been rather keen on the change.” “I got stared at by about a dozen maids an’ things cornin’ in, an’ I ain’t used to bein’ stared at.” Smith settled himself comfortably on the side of his bed and surveyed the hos.tile face of Shep in amusement. “Probably it’s the first time for a good many years that any of the female persuasion has seen you as a civilised being, Shep. You know, you’re not at all unpleasing to the eye now that you have been shaved and cleaned up. I can forsee trouble amongst the feminine branch of Mr Emmerson’s domestic staff from now on.” Shep looked at him coldly. “You’re not the only one that can forsee trouble,” he replied. “I can

foresee heaps of it, an’ there ain’t none of it connected with the female persuasion. I’ve got an uneasy feelin' that you an’ me’ll be sayin' it with stone hammers soon.” “Well, that would be rather interesting," said Smith, with a smile. "I’ve never used a stone hammer, bu,t doubtless I could learn.” “You’ll learn,” muttered Shep, grimly, and he proceeded to undo the suitcase, which held the dinner suit. “I wouldn’t bother to unpack until you’ve had something to eat. Just lay out the suit and unpack after dinner.” At the mention of dinner, Shep brightened visibly. After all, this adventure, mad as it was, might have its compensations. Dinner was a word that Shep hadn’t had much use for up till now. It had always been a question of either having something to eat, or having nothing. Dinner sounded like a real feed. He laid Smith’s suit out on the back of a chair, then, stepping back, he bowed extravagantly. “Will that please your highness?” he asked. “that will do very nicely, thank you, valet,” replied Smith. He walked over to a bell-push in the wall. “When I press this button, a bell rings below. When you hear that bell, you’ll know I want you.” “Very good, sir!” said Shep, again bowing, and backing towards the door. “An’ if I don’t come, you’ll know I never heard it.” He went out, leaving Smith to dress. He closed the door almost noiselessly, still sarcastically deferential, and was just turning to go down the stairs, when he got the shock of his life. Coming from the opposite direction were Lakin and Mira. At sight of them, Shep stood rooted to the spot, unable to retreat or go forward. Luckily for Shep, they were in such close conversation that they didn’t see him. They couldn’t have failed to notice his alarm, and though- they wouldn’t have recognised him, they would naturally have wondered at his behaviour. To Shep’s relief, they turned downstairs without having seen him. He fumbled for the handle of the door again, and staggered into the room. Smith watched him in astonishment as he made for a chair and sank into it. “What’s wrong? Feeling bad, Shep?” asked iSmith, rather alarmed. “Very bad,” replied Shep. “I just seen the couple we pinched the basket from!” “You what?” “The couple we pinched the basket from,” repeated Shep. “Goin’ down the stairs. Frozen faced dude an’ flash dame.” “Lakin and his sister!” Smith whistled. “That’s strange. What were they doing at Suicide Bend? —So that’s the couple we have to thank for the basket? I suppose they were having .a snack by the wayside on their way to Weyburn.” Shep shook his head slowly, not quite recovered from his fright. “They were cornin’ from Weyburn,” he informed Smith. “Coming from Weyburn? Strange! Well, we’re certainly striking coincidences, Shep. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. They wouldn’t know you, even if they had taken our photograph that night.” ‘I hope not,” muttered Shep, but he was very doubtful nevertheless. He made his way downstairs very carefully, and to his relief reached the servants’ quarters without having encountered anything more alarming than the butler. Arriving in the kitchen, all thought of the frozen faced dude and the flash dame was driven from his mind by the appetising smell of cooking, and he immediately proceeded to make himself agreeable to the cook. That good lady, who was well past her prime, and who was fighting a losing battle with her retiring youth, was flattered by his attentions, and soon had placed in front of Shep a large plateful of the most delectable items on the menu. At sight of the good things Shep rubbed his hands together in satisfaction, and bestowed a thankful smile on the gratified cook. After dinner Lakin excused himself and left the house. He told Mr Emmerson he had a letter to post, and the nignt being beautiful, the run out would do him good. Half-way .down the drive he stopped, and adopted his usual grey hair and a grey moustache. This done, he muffled himself up in a big coat and continued on his way. About a mile from the gates of Cranford Hall he met a car approaching from the opposite direction. He slowed up and dimmed his lights twice, and, the signal being answered ■ from the other car, he pulled into the side of the road. His confederate, who had evidently done this sort of thing before, pulled up behind him, with his headlights showing the opposite way. Lakin waited in his car until the other man came up to him. “Evening, Tim,” greeted Lakin. “Evenin’, boss. On time?” “Just right. Follow me back, and when I stop park your car in the bush, turn the lights out, and then get in ; with me.”

Tim went back to his car, and, after Lakin had turned around, followed him to the gates of Cranford Hall. Here Lakin stopped, and Tim ran his car into the scrub at the side of the road. They then proceeded slowly up the drive, with headlights out, until they came within sight of the house. Here Laki a agai.-. stopped, and, pointing out Smith’s window to Tim, he explained what he wanted him to do. ' “You’ll find a ladder about six feet from the path that runs around tne side of the. house,” he toid him. “The men will be in the smoke room for another hour yet, and the servants are all below. I’ll turn around and wait here for you.” Tim nodded, and crept quietly towards the house. He was careful to take advantage of all the shrubbery he could find, as his figure would stand out fairly clearly in the moonlight. Lakin had said there would be no one about, but it was just as well to be sure as sorry. He found the ladder here Lakin had told him, and as quickly and as quietly as possible he singled out the window he wanted, and raised the ladder against the wall. Climbing noiselessly up, he gently tried the window. It was open. Taking a small torch from his pocket, he shone it around the inside of the room. He could see the cases against the

wall at the wardi’obe, and, with a satisfied smile, he put his foot over the window sill and entered. (To be Continued.)