"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 1 November 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER XXII. —Continued

She rose and started to walk back slowly, thinking of Smith all the way, and wondering what he had done to make him change his name, and above all, wondering what his real name was. As she approached the channel wall, she made out a figure on the other bank. He was waving her to come on more quickly, and when she came nearer she saw to her astonishment that it was Shep. He had followed the two girls from the house, still hoping to get a chance to speak to Marie alone. He had fretted in shelter while they were at golf, an when they gave it up he had followed them once more. At the river he hesitated, not wishing to expose himself to any of the workmen on the channel, and, finally deciding that they would come back in good time, he hid in the scrub, and waited. He was determined now that he would speak to both of them rather than let his chance pass. / . After what seemed hours to him, he saw Betty returning alone. Overjoyed that at last he would get speaking to, Marie, he drew back into the bushes and allowed Betty to pass. Not long after this he heard voices further up the channel, and peering around the scrub that fringed the river bank, he saw to his amazement that all the people from the house appeared to be making a speech, but Shep had no idea what was in progress, and he devoutly hoped that none of them would come down his way before Marie passed. Soon he saw Marie walking towards him, and in his eagerness to attract her attention, he came right out to the river’s edge, yet was careful to remain hidden from those higher up. Marie, seeing him, came forward more quickly. Shep, was a link with Smith, and any link with Smith at the present moment was most welcome to her. Just as she had got within a few feet of him, there was a dull doom, the ground underneath her feet heaved upwards, and she toppled sideways towards the river. In a flash, Shep remembered the crowd farther up the river, and, too late, he realised what it all meant. .He made a dive for Marie, and, clutching her around the waist, made a great effort to pull her back, but. the ground underneath started to slip away from him, as the water, undermining it, rushed into the new channel. They made a last despairing effort to get a footing; then both plunged into the foaming torrent below. Had Shep been the finest swimmer in the world he could have done nothing in that swirling rush of water, but Shep was no swimmer, and in his desire to preserve his own life, he retained his grip on Marie. They were tossed like corks, sometimes under the water and sometimes on the surface, twirling and twisting, being rushed madly along as the water sought to fina its own level; scraped against the bank, and then forced out into the centre again, the very force of the rush preventing them from sink? ing and being drowned. Then quite suddenly the rush stopped as the waters met in the middle. There was a mighty upheaval, which Marie and Shep fortunately missed, and they were carried back again in the backwash which followed. They were washed nearer the bank, where Shep, seeing an extended root, made a wild grab for it. His arm was nearly wrenched from its socket, but he hung on and, luckily, the root held. Never for an instant did his grip on Marie slacken. He had a hazy idea that if he did so he would immediately drown and Shep didn’t want to drown. Even when he caught hold of the root he still held her, although it would have been much better for himself had he let go of her.

It was well that he did so, for, after the first awful plunge, Marie remembered nothing more until a dozen willing friends joined ‘hands and pulled them back to safety. Just as Mr Emmerson had put his hand on the firing switch, the works foreman, who was standing a little way apart from the group, had seen Marie hurry across the wall. Horrified, he had lifted his ’hands and yelled out to Mr Emmerson to hold on, but he was too late. The assembled guests had looked up" just in time to see Marie totter on the heaving wall, and Shep dive forward to her assistance. What followed was like a nightmare to the watchers on the bank, as thei two figures were tossed and whirled towards them. Shep’s effort to save her and the dogged manner in which he hung on to her through everything appeared to everyone as a most heroic action. They could see what Shep could not see, Marie lying passively in his arm, while Shep fought madly with one hand. To jump into their assistance would have been a useless waste of effort; no swimmer could possibly have got near them in that vortex. They could only stand and stare helplessly at the struggle, until Shep gripped the root, and clung there, spent, and all in. As quickly as possible, they formed a chain of hands, fearful every minute that Shep’s strength would give out, and they would again be carried beyond their reach. Once on the bank, they were chafed and rubbed vigorously until some vestige of colour was restored to their pale faces. Then .were they assisted back to the house with all possible speed. To Shep’s unutterable surprise, everyone insisted on shaking hands with him and commending him on his heroism. He learned with astonishment that he had saved Marie’s life and nearly lost his own in the effort. Bewildered by their congratulations, he forgot that he had been hiding from the police, and for the first time in his career he felt the pleasurable thrill of having done something. Mr Emmerson couldn’t do enough for him. He instructed his own valet to get Shep into a dry change of clothing and attend to his needs, to. the intense embarrassment of Shep, who hated being fussed over. After he was changed, the thought of the police returned to him once more, and he thought again of what he wanted to see Marie about. With a rueful smile, he realised that he might as well see Mr Emmerson now that he was here, and he asked the valet to tell him ‘ he had something to say to him.

Mr Emmerson came at once, and when the valet had gone, Shep told of how he had been trying to 'see Marie all day, and had followed her to the river to try and get a chance to speak to her. “I must tell you what I’ve got to say where there ain’t no chance of Lakin or ’is sister bearin’,” he said, cautiously. Emmerson looked at him in surprise. “Why, Shep?'’ “’Cause it’s about him I want to talk.” “Come up to Marie’s room,” said Emmerson, overcoming his astonishment. He led the way upstairs and knocked at the door. Marie, who was now none the worse for her adventure, called out to him to come in, and, opening the door, they entered, Betty, was with Marie, and, at the sight of Shep, they both rose and came forward to thank him for having saved Marie’s life. CHAPTER XXIII. Shep hardly knew how to begin. Finding himself the centre of attraction, and knowing that they were all waiting for him to speak, made him very uneasy. Mr Emmerson, noticing his embarrassment, tried to help him. “Now then, Shep,” he said, cheerily, “no one will hear us here.” Shep cleared his throat. “It’s —it’s about Smith—an’ me,” he began, awkwardly. “I just couldn’t run away an’ leave him in all this trouble. He wouldn’t do it to me.” Once started, his words came easier. “Smith ain’t no Ranger!” “I knew that ( ” broke in Betty, triumphantly. I “I suppose I’d better start at the beginning,”’ went on Shep. “I don’t know that Smith’ll thank me, for what I’m go in’ to caq( but I don’t see no I’m going to say, but I don’t see no other way for it, an’ anyway, it’ll get him out of gaol a lot sooner.” He looked at them with an apologetic smile. “A couple of weeks ago, Smith an’ me was tramps.” They stared at him in surprise, not quite understanding. “On the road, I mean,” explained Shep. “But Smith was new to the game. He’d never done no trampin’ before. He was a mystery right from the start. I met him about a month ago, an’ when I asked him ’is name, he said, ‘Call me Smith—John Smith!’ The night before that ball at Weyburn we was camped at Suicide Bend.” “Suicide Bend?” asked Emmerson “Isn’t that the place the police nearly caught the Ranger?” “Yes, an’ that was the night they nearly caught him, an’ we was the two tramps that attacked the police.” Emmerson was beginning to understand. He remembered the newspaper account of the affair, and how the interference of two tramps had enabled the Ranger to escape. “Why on earth did you attack the police?” he asked. “We didn’t know they was police; we thought it was a hold-up. We couldn’t see the numberplate on their car because they had switched the lights out, an’ they didn’t have any uniforms.” He smiled ruefully. “We got knocked about a bit, too, but the Ranger got away. The Ranger’s wife was in the car with him, an’ durin’ the fight Smith saw her throw a suitcase into the bush. When everything was all over, we got that suitcase an’ cleared out. All along, Smith wanted to hand it over to the police, but somethin 1 always turned up that stopped him. We found a dress suit in it which just fitted Smith, and in one of the pockets was an invitation to the ball.” Shep’s audience was listening in amazement. At the mention of the dress suit and the invitation to the ball, Betty clapped her hands delightedly. ■ i “And hat’s how Mr Smith got to the Ball?” she cried, delightedly. “What fun!” Even Mr Emmerson’s face relaxed in a smile, and Marie’s eyes were fast taking on a new light. “Smith went to the ball for a lark,” went on Shep, “and he told me afterwards what ’ad happaned. He didn’t want to come to Cranford Hall, but Mr Emmerson coaxed ’im, an’ I knownow that what decided ’im was Miss Marie.” Marie blushed furiously at Shep’s

Marie blushed furiously at Shep’s simple candour, and Mr Emmerson smiled. Betty was thoroughly enjoy- ■ ing it all.

“He wouldn’t leave me behind, so he took me along as ’is valet. Oh, an’ I nearly forgot, he met Lakin an’ his sister at the ball, an’ he’s been wonderin’ ever since where ’e heard the name before.” “Lakin’s name?” asked Emmerson. “Yes. It was the last name he ’ad heard, or, rather, seen, before meetin’ Lakin, an’ he couldn’t think where it was. I only found out yesterday where he’d seen it, an’ I didn’t get a chance of speaking to ’im afterwards.” “And where did he see it?” asked Marie quietly. “It was on the tab of the evenin’ jacket that we found at Suicide Bend. I saw it when I was brushin’ it.” They looked at each other, rather puzzled. “Lakin’s name on the tab of the jacket?” asked Emmerson. “W. Lakin, an’ a date,” answered Shep, impressively. “What on earth does that mean?” “It means that Lakin’s the Ranger, an' his sister’s his wife!” answered Shep, with a charming disregard for the general fitness of things. All three of his listeners came to their feet in amazement. Shep’s accusation was like a bombshell in their midst. They were horrified. “Impossible!” declared Emmerson, shaking his head emphatically. “I’ve known Lakin for years. The Ranger must have stolen his dress suit in some way or other —or else it’s some other W. Lakin. Perhaps it was the maker’s name?” he suggested. Shep shook his head. He hadn’t known Lakin for years, and he was interested only in the facts as he knew them. “The maker’s name was on it, too,” he declared. “But Lakin had his dress suit on at the ball,” said Emmerson. “I don’t know nothin’ about that,” replied Shep, “but I ain’t finished yet. The afternoon after the fight at Sui-

cude Bend, I went back down to see if anything else had been thrown away; I couldn’t believe they’d just thrown away an evening suit. While I was there, I heard a car cornin’, an’ I hid in the bush an’ waited for it to pass, but it didn’t pass; it stopped, an’ Lakin an’ that sister of his gets out an’ starts huntin’ for the suitcase.” (To be Continued.)