"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 3 November 1938, Page 12

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER XXlV.—Continued.

They walked to the concrete wall which closed the balcony in. and Marie made to raise herself up to sit on it, with the aid of her hands. It was just a little too high for her, and Smith put his hands under her arms to assist her. it seemed the natural thing to do under the circumstances. It also seemed the natural thing for Marie to put her hands on Smith’s shoulders to help herself spring up. The next few seconds were like a dream to Smith. For a brief space they looked into each other’s eyes, then his hands slipped right around and drew her close to him, and he bent and kissed the unresisting lips that were upturned to meet his. At length, Betty’s laugh, pealing out from the billiard room, broke the spell, and Smith drew away with a troubled look in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t meant to do that —I just couldn’t help myself.” Marie, still kept her hands on his shoulders. “Why are you sorry?” she asked, looking up into his eyes. “You love me, don’t you?” “And I love you. What is there to be sorry for? I’m glad.” “Jump up,” he said, and this time he lifted her up on the wall. Taking one of her hands in his, he continued, slowly, “I do love you, Marie. That’s what brought me to' Cranford Hall; although, at the time," I didn’t recognise it as love —but it was foolish; I shouldn't have come.” “Why not?” Smith didn’t for a moment. He had been looking forward to this moment more than anything, and yet, now that it had come, he wasn’t happy. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said at last. “For all you know, I may be just as notorious the Ranger.” Marie smiled happily, and, drawing him near, she kissed him again. “I don’t care' who you are. You’re my man, and I .want you.” Smith stroked the dark head tenderly. , “It all seems terribly easy—your way.- I’d feel exactly, like you if the positions were reversed,, but think of the gossips. I fancy I see a paragraph in the society column, under the heading, ‘Things we would like to know!’ ‘Who is the adventurous young nondescript who has aspired to the hand of one of our . society belles?’ The evening papers would rush to press with glaring headlines, ‘Wealthy Girl Infatuated by Tramp!’ ” “These things would leave me entirely unmoved,” returned Marie, with a smile. “I’m depending for my happiness on you, not on gossips.” “Those words mean a lot to me, Marie. If you’re prepared to take me as I am, you must love me, and that knowledge means more to me than anything else.” He took her in his arms and kissed her, tenderly. .“You won’t regret it, and when I come back I’m going to ask you to marry me.” Marie’s face clouded. “What do you mean? When you come back?”

“I’m going away —for a while.” “Going away?” echoed Marie, in a hurt voice. ‘Why? Is it necessary?” “Yes. After what’s happened, I think it is. I have a great respect for your father, Marie, and I feel I can hardly continue to stay here without offering some sort of an explanation. Well—l can’t do that; at least, not in the meantime. Soon, I hope to be able to come back, and to be in a position to. explain many things that must seem strange to you now.” “Father doesn’t mind,” said Marie, quietly. Smith shook his head slowly. He knew Emmerson didn’t mind; none of them minded. They had treated him wonderfully, even after knowing he had been a tramp. He was sorry, in a way, that he had deceived them in the first place, although he hadn’t foreseen what was going to happen. From a pleasant break in the monotony of life, it had come to be a general mix-up. True, he had saved Marie from Lakin and exposed that gentleman to the police, and, I although this atoned for his intrusion, yet he felt it didn’t excuse it. “I know none of you would mind, he said, “but how could I go on meeting all of you from day to day, when there exists that little something underlying all conversation and constantly cropping up between us. And what of Shep?” He smiled as he thought of Shep. “You know now that Shep is no more valet than I am. I met him on the road, and he has become an indispensable unit in my general scheme of things. He’s a likeable little chap with an unconscious fund of humour, and an insatiable appetite. But he doesn’t fit in here.” Marie was silent for some moments. She understood Smith’s point of view and knew that he could not be perfectly at his ease if he remained at Cranford Hall, and, after all, he said he would come back.

“I don’t know what your trouble is,” she said at last. “I don’t want to know. I only want to be sure you’re coming back. Somehow—it seems that the best things in the world are only arrived at through trouble.” She smiled, but her eyes were moist. “The things that don’t matter come tumbling over each other in an effort to get there first.

“Nothing in this world is a trouble until you happen to want it,” replied Smith, softly. “The things that don’t matter would assume gigantic proportions if we wanted them badly enough. Yes, Marie, I’m coming back. It would take a lot to keep me away now, and when I do come back, we will start a new road together, and tramp it together, until the, end. CHAPTER XXV. When Smith returned to his room he sat down by the window and stared out over the moonlit lawn. 'He did not switch on the light, as he wanted to think for a while, and thoughts come more easily in the dark. It was very hard to leave Cranford Hall now that he and Marie had confessed their love for each other. He had intended to go away without letting her know his feelings for her, as he felt he had no right to make any attempt to win her in his present circumstances.

His ruminations were disturbed by the sound of a cheery whistle coming along the passage towards his room. He smiled in spite of himself. It was Shep, and he was evidently very happy -about something. “Quite a changed Shep,” thought Smith. No fear of the police, the suitcase tangle all straightened out, and the wherewithal to provide themselves with years and years of “eats” , lying in the bank at Weyburn. Shep certainly had something to whistle about.

He threw open the door, still whistling, and switched on the light. Then his eyes fell on Smith, sitting by the window, and, in his astonishment, his lips remained drawn, although the whistle died away. He looked so comical that Smith laughed outright. “What’s wrong with you?” demanded Shep. “Just thinking. Aren’t you afraid you’ll waken the household with that whistle, Shep. It’s rather late, you know.” “Gee! I didn’t think of that.” “By the way, I really believe I forgot to compliment you on your heroic action in saving Marie from the river.” “Aw, that, was nothin’.” Smith rose and shook the embarrassed Shep by the hand. “It was a lot to me,” said Smith. “Some day I’m going to marry Marie.” His words failed to raise any excitement in Shep, who only nodded his head knowingly. “I knew that was cornin’. I’ve been watchin’ it grow.” He stood for a moment, scratching his head in perplexity. “Now what did I come up for? Gee! Don’t that lick everything!” Smith laughed, and suggested several things that might have brought Shep to his room, but to all of them Shep shook his head. Suddenly his face cleared and, putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Smith. It was a cheque for one thousand pounds. “Mr Emmerson gave me it,” explained Shep. “What ought a bloke to do with it.” “That’s wonderful, Shep/’ exclaimed Smith, warmly. “Put it in the bank, of course.” “But I don’t want nothin’ for holdin' on to Miss Marie in the water. I mean, should I give 'im it back.” Smith thought for a moment. He understood how Shep felt in the matter. No one likes to feel that they are being paid for such a service. “No, I don’t think you should give it back, Shep,” he said at last. “After all, Mr Emmerson feels that he owes you something, and it’s the only way he can show his gratitude. Keep it—it may grow very soon.” Shep shook his head slowly, and, without saying any more, he closed the door softly and went downstairs. After breakfast the next morning Smith got a chance of speaking to Mr Emmerson in the library. He explained that he was going away, but that he would keep in touch with the police authorities until the Ranger case came on. He added that he hoped to come back soon, and give an account of himself. Emmerson protested loudly tnat he wouldn’t hear of it. He declared that he owed Smith more than he could ever repay by being the means oi bringing Lakin’s infamous plot to light, and he assured Smith that he was quite content to accept him as he was. . ~ . “We all know that you don t belong to the tramp class,” he went on, •‘and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference if you did. There isn’t a person in the house that hasn’t got the warmest feeling of friendship for you.’ “j know that. Mr Emmerson,” replied Smith. He was finding it harder than he had even anticipated. “Believe me, I appreciate that friendship, b The telephone rang in the hall, ana Emmerson went to answer it. Smith paced up and down the library in an uncomfortable frame of mind. In the hall he could hear Mr Emmerson speaking at the telephone. “Yes,” he was saying, “this is Cranford Hall. Mr Emmerson speaking. What Who? Good gracious! Yes, that’s so. I’ll send the car for you immediately. I’m more than delighted. It was a few minutes before ne returned, and then he came back smiling and rubbing his hands together. “When were you thinking of going, Smith,” he asked, and Smith was surprise at the change in his tone. “This morning,” answered Smith “Bad luck,” exclaimed Emmerson, although his voice gave the impression that he considered it anything but baa luck. “Still, if you will go, that s .an end to it. I’m sorry, Smith!” Smith went upstairs to pack, totally at. a loss to account for Mr Emmerson’s change of mood. One moment he had put forth all the arguments he could think of to get him to remain, and then suddenly he had switches over and appeared to be glad to get ria of him. He was evidently expecting someone on a visit, according to his conversation on the telephone, ana possibly his delight, at seeing some: ola friend had been the governing thought jnhismind at the time. Smith, never theless, felt just a trifle hurt at the Ct He g rang for Shep and told him oi his intentions, explaining the position to him as well as possible. Shep s face was a picture of dismay He had thought everything was all settled now and that they would stay on until the other guests broke up. He didn’t say much, realising that Smith knew best, but he couldn t quite follow his reasoning. . Smith left him emptying the waidrobe and muttering to himself, while he went for a walk on the rivet bank. He hadn’t seen Smith’s Island since it had been completed, and he wanted to have a look at the result before he left He had hardly gone, when Emmerson’s car returned from Weyburn and drew up in front of the house. Almost before it had stopped, Emmerson was on his way down the steps and a few seconds, later was shaking hands warmly with a tall military looking gentleman. “Glad to meet you, Sir James, he said. “You’re the most welcome visitor I’ve had for many a day.” He led him inside and introduced him to Marie, whom they met in the hall.

“My daughter, Sir James! This is Sir James Whitcombe, Marie! Jack’s father!” He smiled at the questioning look in her eyes. “Perhaps I should say, Smith’s father!” “Sm —Oh!” Then the full significance of his identity rushed in on her. Smith’s father! —Sir James Whitcombe! She stammered a greeting, scarcely know what she said. “I wish I had known where he was long ago,” said Whitcombe. “We’ve been hunting for him for weeks.” A footman took his hat and coat and Emmerson led the way into the library, Marie following slowly. “Surely,” she thought, “there would be no necessity for him to hurry away from Cranford Hall now.” “How did you find out he was here?” asked Emmerson. “They told me at the police station, in fact, it was from there I rung you. Where is Jack?” “Come to the river for a walk,” replied Emmerson, smiling. “I didn’t tell him you were coming—wanted to surprise him. Whitcombe smiled. “So he’s been using the name of Smith. . That means that you don’t know anything about,him. Well, it’s probably just as well he’s missing while I tell you his story.” Marie sat on the arm of her father’s chair, scarcely able to make her eyes from this tall, military looking man who bore such a striking resemblance to Smith. (To be Continued.)