"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 15 October 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER Xl..—(Continued). All would have been well with Lakin’s plans, and Tim would have had no difficulty in getting away with the suitcase, had Shep not arrived at Cranford Hall father late that evening in possession of an appetite of twelve hours’ standing. In the ordinary way Shep would have dined with the servants, after the people of the house had been served, but Shep had not dined with the servants, the cook having graciously allowed him to eat his fill before the others started. He was even then on his way to Smith’s room to get on with the unpacking. He arrived at the door just as Tim was about to 'lift the suitcase. Shep, who had been well fed for once in his life, was ' feeling cheerful and happy. He threw the door open lustily, and, before Tim knew what had happened, he was blinking in the sudden glare of the electric light. For the space of a second the two stared at each other; then Tim dropped the suitcase and made a dash for the window. At the same moment Shep made a dash for Tim, and just as he was about to throw his leg over the sill Shep grabbed him and hauled him back into the room. Shep was very much smaller than Tim, and in an encounter, where both had equal chances, he would probably have taken the count within the first minute of the struggle, but he had the advantage of the attacking party, allied to the fact that Tim was anxious to escape before reinforcements arrived on the scene. Shep adopted the same method of attack that had been so successful' with the policeman at Suicide Bend, and, by throwing an arm around Tirti’s heck, and digging his knee’into Tim’s back, he had him down on the' floor and was sitting on him before Tim quite'realised what was happening. Shep, however, did not have matteis all his own way. Before he could place his knee on one of Tim’s arms, Timmade a desperate lunge at his head, catching him a healthly punch on the same ear as had been injured at Suicide Bend. Shep howled with agony and rage, and immediately secured the arm. Catching him by the hair, he bumped his head vigorously on the floor, to the accompaniment of a flow of curses and threats from the unfortunate Tim. Immediately underneath the scene of hostilities was the smoke room, to which the men had retired after dinner. They were discussing some oi Mr Emmerson’s racehorses, when a heavy thud from upstairs brought them to their feet in alarm. This was followed by a regular bump, bump, bump, as Tim’s head was banged on the floor. “Sounds like my valet unpacking with the aid of a hammer,” remarked Smith, with a smile.

Then they heard Tim’s voice as he classified the vigorous Shep and his unsportsmanlike methods. The men looked at each other, then, with one accord, they made for the door. As •they reached the landing above they heard a beseeching plea for mercy. “You’re murdering me,” wailed poor Tim.

‘l’m justifiable homiciding you,” came the retort from Shep. “You fetched me a clip on the ear. On the sore ear, too.” At that moment there was a loud scuffling. Tim, with a mighty effort, had succeeded in dislodging Shep from his chest. Bringing his knees up suddenly, he had caught Shep in the middle of the back, winding him, and Shep, thus temporarily rendered hors de combat, had slackened his hold. The next moment, Shep was flung sprawling over Tim’s head and Tim, jumping to his feet, looked round hastily for the suitcase. The noise of hurrying footsteps outside made him alter his mind, and with a bound, he reached the window. As Smith and his companions threw open the door, they were just in time to see Tim’s head and shoulders as he put his legs round the ladder and slide to the ground. Shep scrambled ruefully to his feet. “What’s the matter?” asked Smith. “A burglar,” replied Shep. Then he added, as though apologising for having let him escape: “I had 'im well down, but 'e tricked me. He was making off With one of them suitcases when I came in.” They all hurried downstairs again, Emmerson calling on the men servants as they went. Outside they found the ladder standing against the wall of the house, but no trace of Tim. The sound of a motor engine came to them from further down the drive, and they knew then that the burglar had escaped them. ‘‘l’ll ring the police,” decided Emmerson, and they all trooped back inside again. He was just about to lift the receiver when they again heard a motor engine. This time it was approaching the house, . and Emmerson left the telephone and went outside again. It was Lakin. “Did you pass a car coming up?” asked Emmerson. “Yes,” was the reply. “I passed one coming out of the drive as I was coming in. I thought it was someone ■from the house. What’s happened?” “An attempted burglary. Which way did he go?” "To the right,” answered Lakin. He hadn’t, of course. Emmerson rang up the police and put them on the wrong scent, thereby enabling Tim to ride home unmolested. Lakin made his way to his room, cursing himself and his lact< of luck, but intensely thankful that he had got out of it so lightly. If Tim had been captured, it might have been very awkward. Tim might not have spoken, but Lakin had come to that stage that he wouldn’t even have trusted Mira. CHAPTER XII. Upstairs, Shep described his encounter to Smith, while he unpacked the suitcases. Smith listened with a puzzled expression on his face. “You and I have evidently been intended for an adventurous career, Shep.” remarked Smith, when Shep had finished. “I’ve had more excitement in the past week than I've had all the rest of my life. It seems u remarkable thing to me, though, th it a burglar should come all the way to Cranford Hall to steal a suitcase full pl clothes.”

Shep stopped unpacking lor a mor t nt and rubbr-d his ear, disconsolately. “It seems a remarkable thing to me that he should pick this ear out an’ swipe it.” “He must have thought he had a very easy thing on,” continued Smith. “Oh, did ’e?” retorted Shep, heatedly. ”If you ’ad got the treatment that bloke got. you’d ” “‘Eh? Oh, I was referring to the attempted burglary. I give you frill credit for your attempt at justifiable homicide, Shep. The fact that the burglar had other plans was no fault of yours. What I mean was that he must have thought he had an easy thing on to start burgling an, occupied house at eight o’clock in the evening, and to pick up a suitcase at random seems to me a ridiculous thing to do. He came in a motor car, too. Surely not for a suitcase!” Shep went on with the unpacking. As far as he was concerned, the interest in the burglar business would have departed with the burglar had it not been for the burning sensation in his ear. That acted as a painful reminder to him that he had been caught off his guard, and it rankled. Even the bumping of Tim’s head on the floor had not quite compensated for it, although he would probably have thought otherwise had he seen Tim. Smith could weave a mystery around the affair and then, try to unravel it if he derived any satisfaction from the process, but to Shep it was an attempted burglary, and that ended the matter. He hung all the clothes in the wardrobe; then went downstairs, leaving Smith still puzzling. Smith, of course, was not worrying because a burglar had taken a notion to steal a suitcase, but because a suitcase seemed to be playing a big part in their lives. He knew there was more in the act. than appeared on the surface, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what it could be. He gave it up at last and went to bed, resolving at the earliest possible moment to get rid of the thing.

In the morning he was up, early. This was the day of the golf match, and he thought it would b'e a good idea if he went out to the links and got some practice in. • It was a long while since he had played golf, and he didn’t want to make an absolute duffer of himself. Needless to say, he had the links to himself, the household in general not being so golf-minded as to lose any sleep over it. He putted and pitched until he felt that he could give a fairly creditable performance; then, with his chin well up and a whistle on his lips, he walked back towards the house. It was a beautiful morning, and it was good to be alive. Most of us feel this way when we rise early for once in our lives. We pity the poor unfortunates who still lie in bed, missing the best part of the day. The following morning we will most likely be one of the poor unfortunates again, but that matters little this morning. On the way back he met Mr Emmerson returning from an early morning visit to the stables. There was at least one other sensible individual at Cranford Hall, thought Smith, as he greeted him cheerily. “Good morning, Smith,” returned Emmerson, just as happy as Smith, and rather surprised that there was soriieone else at the house with sufficient intelligence to appreciate a morning like this. “I didn't know you were an early riser or I would have called you to come with me. You’d be interested in the daybreak scenes of a racing stable. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, if you like.” “Thanks, Mr Emmerson. I'd certainly be interested.” ■ “We’re preparing a horse foi- the cup on Saturday,” continued Emmerson. “Sloth’s his name!” He smiled. “I named him that on my first impression of him. Never saw such an unpromising foal, but he’s turned out a wonder. By the way, would you like a little flutter on him; he’s out to win!” Smith’s heart sank. This was one of the difficulties he felt might crop up any time, and, though he had given So much thought to the matter, he was totally unprepared for jt. He tried to appear perfectly at his ease and to answer as naturally as possible. (To be Continued.)