"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 22 October 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER XVI (Continued.) “They’re now lining up for the great race of the day, the Weyburn Cup!” began the announcer. “They are a fine looking lot, and it should prove as good a race as it has done in former years. Merryboy’s gone out of .line, and the clerk of the course is leading him in again. Now! Sloth’s playing up. He reared right up mere and almost unseated his rider.” Shep turned mournfully to Smith. “We’ve got not luck. Everything’s against us.” Smith held up his hand to enjoin silence. “That’s the great trouble with this horse,” went on the announcer. “If he gets away from the barrier he’s a good ’un. They’re off! Sloth did it again; he’s left behind! He’s going after them, though, but he must have lost a good six lengths.” Smith look worried. He had felt something like this would happen to cap their misfortunes. “Stone hammers!” reminded Shep, dismally. “Merryboy is leading from Last Hope and Pecker Up. They’re stringing out now. Merryboy is giving way to Pecker Up and is losing ground rapidly. Pecker Up leads the field followed two lengths away by. Last Hope. Next come Windfall, Googly, Black Ace, and Merryboy. Sloth at the head of the others is making a bit of a run. They’re still in the same position as they enter the straight.”

Smith’s and Shep’s faces were a picture of dismay. It was all over apparently. “It’s the great open spaces for me,” said Shep, sadly “I knew this couldn’t last long.” “Shush!” commanded Smith. -

“Pecker Up’s tiring! he’s losing ground. Black Ace is coming up very fast. Oh, there’s two of them together; I can’t see the other one on the other side. They’re forging to the front, neck and neck! Now they’re level with Pecker Up. What a race!” Smith and Shep stood up and got right up close to the speaker. Smith’s hands were clenched in his excitement, and his face was a trifle pale. “They’ve gone to the front. 1 think it’s a dead heat, but we’ll leave it to the judge. Sloth! That’s the horse I couldn’t see. Yes, my word! Sloth wins! Sloth, Black Ace, and Pecker Up, Well, Pecker Up’s a bit of a surprise packet. No one expected him to ” But Smith and Shep weren’t interested any more. Smith switched the wireless off, and sank back in his chair, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Gee!”, muttered Shep. "It won! I wouldn’t like to go through that again.” “Nor me, either. Well, that's half the trouble over. The next half is to get those five pound notes back from Mr Emmerson.” “Supposin' they’re in the bank?” sugested Shep. “Impossible, Shep. .They’d never have got past the teller, and we’d have heard about it by this time. I’ll think up some way of getting them back. Anyway,” he added more brightly, “If everything goes well, it has relieved a very tense situation. I can now get some clothes and return those borrowed ones; and an extra suit wouldn’t do you any harm, Shep. A new one, this time.”

“I was expectin’ a new suit,” returned Shep, thoughtfully, "an a number! Gee! supposin’ that horse had lost? I was getting cold feet.” “The fates decreed otherwise. It was written in the book of fate that it ■would win.” Shep shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know nothin’ about no book of fate, but I thought our names was going to be written in a book iat the police station; the visitors’ book.” “Have you ever been in jail, Shep?” asked Smith, smiling. “Yes, I haVe, too,” replied Shep. “Once I was pinched for examinin’ a chicken too closely, an’ I was only trying to find out where the egg came from. “Too bad, Shep. They wouldn’t believe you?” "No,” replied Shep, slowly. “My luck was out. You see, it happened to be a rooster!” Smith laughed. . It was surprisingly easy to laugh now that the strain' was over. “That was tough on you, Shep,” he said. -j “Yes, I got fourteen days for that,” went on Shep. Another time I was passin’ an open window, and there was a pie coQlin’ on the sill. Well, ask you, wnat was a bloke to do? I didn’t know, though, that it was a copper’s house. I gave ’em a run for it, but I’m built more for comfort than speed, an’ he caught me. Anyway, it was a rhubarb pie, and I hate rhubarb.” “Seems all your troubles have been centred around ‘eats’ Shep,” said Smith, with a smile.

“Well, they used to be until we struck this. Gee! I’m glad now that we didn’t pawn that there evenin’ suit. By the way,” he added, after a pause. "I cant quite figure out. You don’t seem to be one of us gentry of the road at all. Even when you were on the track you was different to us blokes. Your walk's different, an’ you ’ad a bath in the mornin's, which ain’t natural, an’ now you just seem to lit in. here like one of the big bugs themselves. You wear them clothes as if you was used to ’em all your life, an you play golf an’ billiards same as they do. Then, at the dinner table, you don’t seem to ’ave any difficulty in pickin’ up the right bit of cutlery, and you know jest exactly wot to do with little white bit what they use.” Smith smiled at his little friend’s bewilderment.

“Are any of Us what we seem, Shep?” he asked. “We’re-all more or less acting a part, and very few of us would like to have his history-publish-ed. We’ve all got two sides; one for the world to see, and one which the world must not see. Some day I'll tell you my history. It isn t a veiy long one, and wouldn’t interest you a great deal, but I can’t tell you just yet.” “Well,” replied Shep, ‘‘l ’aven’t got no secret side as won’t stand the light. I couldn’t be said to’ve lived beyond my means, an’ I ’aven’t been too particular what the world thought of me. Most of my life’s been spent on the road, unless,” he smiled apologetically,

“when I was a guest of His Majesty’s, an’ then I’d sooner’ve been on the road. Sometimes things was good, an’ sometimes they wasn’t quite so good. On the whole, I don’t mind admittin' that I hope this job lasts.” CHAPTER XVII. When Smith joined Emmerson and Walford in the smoke-room after dinner, the conversation naturally turned to the great race of the day. Lakin had gone to his room, a fact for which Smith was thankful, as he wanted to get a chance to talk to Mr Emmerson about the five pound notes. “By jove, Smith!” said Emmerson. “You missed a great race; we just managed to scratch home. I wasn’t reckoning on any opposition from Black Ace, nor did I give the slightest hope that Pecker Up, would get a place. It was a race of surprises." “After a bad start,” put in Walford, “I lost hope—but what a finish! I was standing right at the judge’s box, and I had no idea which had won until the numbers were posted. I wouldn’t have rnissed It for anything.” “We got nine to two,” went on Emmerson. “I’ll give you a cheque for your lot in- the morning, Smith.” This was the opportunity Smith wanted.

“Oh, by the way, Mr Emmerson!” he said, "If you still have those fivers you let me have them back as part of it. I already have the numbers, and they’ll be handy.” “Certainly, Smith. Glad to get rid of them. I meant to take them into the bank yesterday, but I never got away in time.” Smith breathed a sigh of relief. Much might have happened if Mr Emmerson had got away in time. It would have altered his outlook entirely. What would he be doing at the present moment if Emmerson had put the notes in the bank? or if Sloth had lost? Instead of owing two hundred pounds which he had no immediate hope of paying, he was now the possessor of nine hundred pounds.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you my trophy room, Smith,” said Emmerson, breaking on his thoughts. “it represents 15 years of successes.” He left Emmerson and Walford playing chess, and went for a walk in the grounds before turning in. Although his financial worries were over, for the present, there were still several matters wjiich required careful consideration. Up till now he had had a wonderful run of good luck, and he wondered how long this was going to last. Everything had been arranged for him since the finding of the suitcase. The possession of a sum of money gave him a confidence he was badly in need of, and as long, as Lakin didn’t spring any surprises, things might go on arranging themselves until the channel was finished. He wanted to see that through, and then he would leave.

Suddenly he stopped dead. He had been walking on the soft lawn, and his feet had made no noise. From a clump of bushes ahead came the sound of voices, and one of these, he was certain, belonged to Lakin. Had it been anyone else but Lakin, he would have retreated, but he imagined that anything Lakin might have to say to a stranger in th.? grounds of Cranford Hall at night might also have some interest for himself. He moved nearer to the bushes and listened. “Smith and Shep?” said a strange voice. “Don’t know none of ’em.” “Of course you don’t,” came Lakin’s reply. “Not by these names, anyhow. I’d like you to see them; you’ve had a lot morfe experience with these gentlemen than I, and you’d probably recognise them right away. They think everything’s just plain sailing; they don’t know I’m watching their every move. You be here on Tuesday night, and wait among the bushes until I come; after that, you’ll know best what to do yourself. I'll follow a few days later.”

“Pity you couldn't get that suitcase. Think I ought to have another go at it?”

“No chance,” said Lakin. “They’re alive to that now. We’ll just have to do without it. Now, in case I want to get in touch with you before Tuesday night, where will you be?”

“17 Walker Street, Weyburn’ll get me.”

Smith decided he had’heard enough. He crept hastily away so that he could get inside before Lakin. As he passed the room, he put his head inside the door and called goodnight. Emmerson and Walford were still deeply engrossed in their game of chess, and neither heard him. They were gazing fixedly at the chessboard, and puffing clouds of smoke into the already thick atmosphere of the room. Smith left them undisturbed and made his way upstairs.

He had ample food for thought now. Lakin was evidently making arrangements for his and Shep’s arrest on Tuesday night. Smith had gathered that Lakin was going to remain in the back ground and let someone else do the arresting. He probably didn’t want the Emmerson household to know that he was connected with the police. Well, whether he liked it or not, his stay at Cranford Hall was drawing to a close, but it would end before Tuesday night. He had no intention of wailing to enhance Lakin’s reputation.

(To be Continued.)