"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 31 October 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER XXL—Continued,

Marie didn’t wait to hear any more. She left them still discussing the matter, and went out into the garden, where she wandered aimlessly about for some time, thinking. Her spirts had been gradually rising as the detective proceeded. He evidently didn’t believe that Smith was the Ranger, but when he said he was wanted by the police in any case, she lost hope again. That must have been why he changed his name.

Presently she was joined by Lakin. He was an entirely different Lakin to what he had been lately. The arrest of Smith had brought a smile to his face and he was quite prepared to be pleasant to everyone and anyone. He fell in beside Marie, and they walked slowly along together. Marie had no wish for his company at that moment. She had come out because she wanted to think, and the smiling Lakin annoyed her. “Rather unfortunate business last night,” he began. “Very,” agreed Marie, without any enthusiasm.

“Of course,” he continued, “I warned you about that fellow, if you remember. I seemed to see right through him from the start. Smith!” He sneered. “One would expect so reputedly clever a scoundrel to pick a better name than that. I knew he was a rotter, but I hardly expected he would turn out to be the Ranger.” “You are sure, of course, that he is the Ranger?” asked Marie, dully. “Haven’t you seen the morning papers?” he asked. ’“No.”

“His photograph and a record of his crimes are in it. Also a photograph of his wife.” “His wife?” Lakin smiled at the look of horroron her face.

“Why, yes, of course. He was married —at least one,” he added maliciously. For the moment Marie could not quite understand. She had been thinking of Smith as he spoke, and he had said he was married. Her mind was in a muddle. She stared at Lakin for a few seconds; then her brain cleared. Of course, he was referring to Smith as the Ranger. The Ranger may have been married, but, according to the detective, Smith wasn’t the Ranger. She didn’t enlighten him.

Encouraged by the effect of his words, he went on: “There’s no doubt, Marie, we’ve, all had a narrow escape. If Mrs Walford hadn’t noticed her loss last night we might all have been robbed. I suppose that rascally accomplice of his had sold the jewels by this time. “The jewels have been found,” returned Marie, quietly.

“They have been found? Where were tney hidden?” “They weren’t hidden. Betty borrowed them to wear to the theatre last night with Cyril. -“Oh!” Lakin was plainly taken aback by this information, but he made an effort to turn his look of dismay into one of relief. “What a coincidence (hat Betty should do that on the night of the attempted robbery.”

Marie looked at him in surprise. Neither she nor her father had mentioned anything about the trophies having been tampered with until the arrival of the detective that morning, and she wondered how Lakin should know of an attempted robbery.” “What attempted robbery?” she asked curiously. Lakin noticed his blunder and hastened to cover it up. “I—er—l thought there had been some other discovery of some sort.— Oh, I’ve got it; it’s the forged notes I was thinking of. I got mixed up.”, There was silence between them for a few minutes. Lakin was striving to recover his composure. He had nearly made a mess of things. He bit his lip in perplexity. Why had no mention of the trophies been made? The papers had said nothing about them, and only Mrs Walford’s jewels had been discussed at the breakfast table. He felt somewhat relieved that they probably hadn’t been discovered yet. It had been his intention to make an effort to get Marie to settle a day for their marriage while resentment against Smith was uppermost in her mind. Everything had happened most opportunely; she would be disgusted witn Smith now and ready to forget all about him. Lakin couldn’t carry on much longer without financial assistance, and as he stay at Cranford Hall was drawing to a close, he had to make some quick moves. “We’ll be breaking up here very shortly,” he began. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea, Marie, if we could announce the date of our marriage while we’re all together?”

Marie started at the suggestion as though it had been the first time she had heard it. She was thoroughly unhappy, and perhaps if she married Lakin, it would help her to forget about Smith. She hesitated, uncertain, what to say. “We have known each other for a long time, now,” went on Lakin. “Its really time we were making some sort of plans for our future.” “Perhaps it is,” said Marie, slowly, and she was sorry almost as soon as she had spoken. “I’ll think over it. and let you know tomorrow.” Lakin was overjoyed. After all the worry and doubt of the last two weeks, things were beginning to take a turn in his favour. He did not press Marie for anything more definite, being content to let well alone, and trusting that by the time she had read the newspaper account of the Ranger, she would be more than willing to forget Smith ever existed. Meantime an angry pair of eyes were watching the exulting Lakin. Shep had been hanging around the house all the morning in the hope of seeing Marie alone, and just when the opportunity had occurred, Lakin had come on the scene. It had been a big effort on Shop’s part to brave the possibility of searching police, and it had on y been the memory of Smith’s words at Suicide Bend that had kept him from running away when daylight came. Smith had said that most people run away from trouble, not into it, and taking heart from ‘his Shep had stuck to | his original; v. "n. He scowl i \ns back as they curned and! 'wards the house X - ’

again, in which case, he decided desperately, he’d have to talk to someone else about it and risk the result. CHAPTER XXII.

By lunch time on Wednesday afternoon, the new river channel was completed, with the exception of the last few remaining feet at the end. Underneath these few , remaining feet charges of gelignite had been inserted, and there had been wired up and led to a firing switch about midway between the two ends. The work had been finished sooner than was expected, and as the foreman had another job to start on when this one was through, he decided to go for Mr Emmerson immediately after lunch and get him to fire the charge that afternoon, instead of Thursday morning as had been originally intended.

Mr Emmerson accordingly assembled his guests to witness the simple little ceremony of bringing into being Smith’s island. After much consideration he had decided to adhere to the original name. Smith might be anything but it had been his idea to cut the channel and form the island, and Emmerson determined to keep to his promise. As a matter of fact, he still had a grain of faith in Smith, and he was unwilling to believe that he was so notorious in identity as the Ranger. Even though he knew that Smith was not his right name, it was the only name he knew him by, and if everything turned out right, it could always be changed. When they were leaving for the river bank, it was found that Marie and Betty were missing, and a search of the house failed to find them. A gardener’s boy finally told Emmerson that he had seen them walking in the garden after lunch, but although the whole party looked for them they couldn’t be found. Even. Cyril’s wild haloos failed to get any response, and they were at length reluctantly compelled to go on without them. It chanced, that Betty had suggested Some golf practice, and Marie, thinking the diversion might do her good, had welcomed the idea. She found, however, after a few ineffective strokes that she was in no mood for golf, and leaving their clubs at the club house, they went for a walk instead. They took the path to the river, and crossed to the other side over the lower wall that separated the river from the new channel.

Betty, noticing Marie’s depression, and divining the cause of. it, tried to cheer her up, but her efforts were unavailing. They walked slowly, Marie with her head down and a worried look on her face.

“I’m going to be married soon,, Betty,” she said. There was no enthusiasm in her tone; she spoke as though it were the most everyday occurrence in the world. Betty raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Not Walter, Marie?” she asked, in astonishment.

“Yes, Walter,” replied Marie, firmly. “Why not?” They sat down on a fallen tree trunk and Betty put an arm around her affectionately. “But you don’t love him, Marie.” Marie made no reply. “How can you marry a man you don’t love?” “Well, I don’t love anyone else,” she said, raising her head rather defiantly. Betty .smiled. Marie was forcing the words out, and they didn’t even succeed in deceiving herself. “Oh, yes you do.” “Who?” “Mr Smith!” Marie bit her lip to keep back the tears. “I don’t,” she flared out at last, but there was a catch in her voice that belied hei’ words. “Don’t be silly; Marie,” went on Betty, softly. “You know you do. I’m half in love with him myself. Wait till all this flanger stuff has blown over and Mr Smith comes out on top—l just know he will, and think Marie, what would happen if you were married to Walter? You can’t do it.” A big tear rolled down Marie’s cheek, in spite of her efforts to hold it back, and then, quite suddenly, she turned and buried her head on Betty’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re right, Betty,” she sobbed. “I can’t do it —I can’t do it.” “Of course you can’t, Marie,” said Betty soothingly. “You’ll find it will 'all come right in the end. If I was asked to pick a scoundrel between Mr Smith and Walter—well, it wouldn’t be Mr Smith.” Marie felt better when she had confided her trouble to Betty. She realised that it would be a terrible blunder to marry Lakin. She loved Smith, and even if he were the Ranger, and it was consequently impossible for her ever to see him again she knew she could never be happy with anyone else. She had been brooding too much alone, and it helped her considerably to share her troubles with someone else.

Betty continued, talking for some lime longer; then, rising, she took Marie’s hands. “Come and blow your troubles away at tennis. It’s faster than golf and takes one’s mind off everything.” Marie shook her head. She had no desire for tennis any more than golf—she just wanted to think. “No, I’ll, stay here for a little longer. You go on.” “And leave you here to mope? No!” “I promise you I won’t mope,” replied Marie, with an attempt at a smile. “You have done me a world of good, Betty. I just want to think everything out for a while. You go on. Cyril will be hunting everywhere for you.” Betty understood, and, after a friendly little argument, she went back alone. Marie was thankful for Betty’s advice. It had helped to renew her waning confidence in Smith and had shown her what a mess she might have made of her life. She remembered Smith’s words: “I think you’ll find that your trust is not misplaced, although you may find it sorely tried within the next few days.”

He had been expecting something to happen, evidently, but he could hardly have foreseen that Betty would wear her mother’s jewels to the theatre and bring about his arrest. It must have been in some way connected with the forged notes, and these were the work of the Ranger. Then, again, the detec-

tive had said that Smith was wanted by the police, and yet he didn't think Smith was the Ranger. It was all a terrible muddle. (To be Continued.)