LADY FOR SHANGHAI

Wairarapa Times-Age, 17 August 1939, Page 12

LADY FOR SHANGHAI

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By

KAYE FOX

CHAPTER XII. (Continued). “After all, Fay, I did once come butting in at the right moment.” Christine reminded her. “It would have been a pretty serious thing for you to be stranded with Royde in Penangeven if he had taken you to friends it would have caused no end of gossip. And I'm very likely going to lose my job’ on account of it: playing nurse to you hasn’t been exactly a pleasure.” "You’ll soon get another job,” Fay said indifferently, and added with a touch of spite: “At least, if you’re not going to come out to spy on me, every few months, I shall have a chance of living my own life in Shanghai.”

Christine realised that Fay was drifting into one of those impossible moods of hers, when anything which was said to her made her more obstinately angry. It was no good beingannoyed with her, for she was only venting her own pain and bewilderment on Christine, like a frightened kitten scratching anyone who tries to hold it. Christine stayed with her for a few minutes longer. For days past, Christine, had seen nothing of John Stanhope, but she met him now in the alley-way. He was in shore-going uniform, and evidently in a great hurry, and he only paused for a moment to make some casual remark about the noise and dust of the coaling. It was all very well, Christine thought wearily, throwing herself down on the settee, for her to give wise advice to Fay—Fay wasn't nearly so foolish as she was. Martin Royde had at least given Fay reason to think that he loved her. but Christine was fretting her heart out for a man who had never been more than friendly, even at the best of times, and who had treated her with cold formality for the greater part of the voyage.

Martin Royde and his wife were ashore most of the two days that the ship was in port, and Christine realised that Fay could not possibly have found a chance of speaking to him alone. She hoped against hope that Fay's pride would come to her aid and that she would decide of her own accord not to attempt to have an explanation with Martin, but she was anxious, for she heard from the stewards that "little Miss Lind was moping about the ship.” Naturally, everyone on board was watching Fay, with a certain amount of cynical amusement. Royde's changed behaviour since his wife’s arrival struck the stewards as funny and they were almost hoping for an explosion of some sort, cither between Royde and his wife, or between Mrs Royde and Fay.

The night after the ship left Singapore. Christine went up to her own section late in the evening, to make sure that Dion Farrant was asleep. ■Dion was fast asleep, guarded by the little light which kept off tigers, and Christine tip-toed out of the room again. She glanced along the alleyway as site came out of number sixteen, and saw Fay, leaning against the bulkhead at the far end of the alleyway, her hands fiat against the wall on either side. Something in the girl’s pose, some hint of desperation, made Christine run to her. Fay did not see Christine until she was close to her, for she was staring at the door of number four, Mrs Royde’s cabin. And when Christine touched her she started forward, pushing Christine aside.

"I'm going to her, Christine,” she said, "and you can’t stop me—l've made up my mind. I've never seen Martin for a moment without her, and. I’m nearly crazy with suspense, and I’m going to her."

"You can’t possibly do such a thing,” Christine protested. "If he hasn't told her himself “

“She was in the lounge just now. alone. I'm going to have things out — if Martin hasn't told her, I will.” She shook off Christine’s hand and took a step forward, and then suddenly stood very still, glancing with a guilty air over her shoulder. They had both heard the soft click of the door of the cabin de luxe, close behind them.

“What are you doing here. Fay, may I ask?” Martin Royde said quietly. Fay answered with a pathetic attempt at defiance. “There's no reason why I shouldn’t be here, is there, Martin? 1 mean, it's a public alley-way." He stared at her very coldly, and then his eyes travelled from her to the door of number four, ten feet or so away.

"You weren't by any chance, going to call on my wife, were you, Fay?" he said.

"Yes. 1 was." she gasped, suddenly losing her sell-control. "I can’t stand it any more. Martin."

Martin Royde laughed, and there was such insult in that low laughter that Fay shrank back.

"I love one woman in the world, and that’s my wife,” he said. “You were good enough for a flirtation—just good enough—and you did throw yourself at me, didn't you, Fay?” “I hate you—oh. I hate you," Fay cried, in a strangled voice. She turned and ran blindly towards the companion, stumbling as she ran, and sobbing under her breath, and her face was so stricken that even Royde was startled. CHAPTER XIII. “Go after her. stewardess —I've gone too far. and that girl may do anything,” Royde said urgently. Christine hardly heard him. She had been taken unawares by Fay's swift movement, but after only a moment's pause she followed her sister. When she reached the companion, she could hear Fay running up to the boat deck. But chi'istme.e foot wa.c only just on

the bottom step when Fay fell, stumbling again and then falling backwards with a choked cry. At the crash, an excited group of passengers came rushing out of the lounge, and in a few seconds a crowd had gathered round the girl who lay very still, her head on Christine’s lap.

“Cator, fetch Dr Stanhope at once," .Christine called, glancing up and seeing the steward on watch.

It seemed a very long time to her before John Stanhope came, though Cator had found him in the smoke room, and it had only taken him a few moments to run along the alley-way. At first, Christine had thought that Fay was dead, but she know now that she was breathing, though she was

quite unconscious. "The stretcher, and we’ll take her straight up to the hospital,” John Stanope ordered. But Miss Crane was on the scene even before the stretcher came, for the steward on watch with Cator had run to tell her that one of her passengers was injured. When Fay was lifted on to the stretcher. Christine had to stand back, and it was Miss Crane who followed the little procession up to the hospital—Fay was not Christine’s passenger, and she had no right to go with her.

For one moment, she had thought ol claiming Fay as her sister, but when she looked at the circle of eager faces she kept silent. She could do Fay no good by going up to the hospital with her, and if Fay was only slightly hurt, and would be coming back to the other passengers in a day or two. it would be cruelly hard for her to have to face the storm of gossip which such a public statement would cause. Miss Crane came down to the stewardesses’ cabin an hour later, to fetch her knitting and a pair, of bedroom slippers. Ey that time, Christine was sick with suppressed anxiety, but her first glance at Miss Crane’s face told her that Fay was not dead, or likely to die.

“Poor young thing. I’ve got to sit up with her until midnight, and then the doctor s taking over,” Miss Crane said. "There are no bones broken, but she’s got a touch of concussion, which is not to be wondered at considering the fall she had. Were you there, Miss Jordan?—did you see how she came to fall?”

"I think she caught her foot on her frock—it was rather long.” Christine said. “She was running up the companion and she stumbled on the top step.”

I wonder what set her running,” Mrs Parr said, with a shrewd glance at Christine. “Was that Royde anywhere about, Miss Jordan? ' “He was there soon after she fell, but so were a great many other people —they came tearing out of the lounge." “And Royde was in the lounge?” I hadn t. time to notice where everyone came from," said Christine, trying to sound casual.

She went into number four early that afternoon, to collect some linen which Mrs Royde wanted to send to the laundry. Mrs Royde was lying on the settee, reading a book, but she laid it down when Christine came’in.

"Stewardess,” she said quietly, "Have you any recent news of Miss Lind? The doctor did not come in to lunch so we could not ask him.”

Miss Crane, who is nursing her. I told me half-an-hour ago, that she was (going on very well,” Christine said. "She is not in any danger at all.” There was still a question in Mrs Royde’s dark eyes, and Christine, who had picked up the laundry bundle, paused before going out of the room' People always gossip over anything like this, I suppose,” Mrs Royde said, in a strained voice, "and Mrs Bugle told me a most extraordinary story—about you and Miss Lind and my husband. She says—that they would havebeen stranded in Penang, if you had not gone ashore to warn Miss Lind."

"To warn them both,” Christine amended, with a smile. "Mr Royde had made a mistake over sailing time —which would be quite enough to set people like Mrs Bugle gossiping.” "And the Chief Steward sent you instead of one of the men. so that if they did miss the ship. Miss Lind would have a woman with her?” "Something like that,” Christine agreed.

"There was a. little pause, and then Mrs Royde said hurriedly, avoiding Christine's eyes: “Stewardess, I am ashamed of myself for asking you questions, but I don't want to ask one of the passengers—or my husband, you see, I may be worrying myself without a cause, just—just because some silly women have repeated a certain amount of gossip to me. They say that Miss Lind and rny husljand have been carrying on a flirtation all the voyage, and that they quarrelled last night, which led to Miss Lind's accident. I expect—that you know the truth, stewardess."

"The truth is," Christine said steadily. “that young girls like Miss Lind often are—rather silly about middleaged men. Mrs Royde danced with her sometimes, and took her ashore in Port Said, and she lost her head just enough to set people talking. There has been no harm done, Mrs Royde. As for last night—no one was there when Miss Lind fell, except me. so anything that they may say is only rather spiteful guessing." "I believe you —perhaps because I do so much want to believe you." Mrs Royde said, in a low voice. “And thank you for your kindness, stewardess.”

And Christine knew, with a pang of pity, that Mrs Royde had no illusions about her husband. Because she loved him still. in spite of everything, she even hid her own pain from him when she could, and pretended to be blind when she really saw only too clearly.

That was why she had questioned Ch ) istine: she had to know the truth, and not from Martin, and though Christine had done her best, she had not concealed the truth from the w,oman who possessed such bitter knowledge of her husband. When Miss Crane came down from the hospital, soon after midnight, she said that Fay had been conscious all day. but that she was very restless. Although it was so late, none of the stewardesses were in a hurry to go bed that night. Christine sat curled up in a corner of the settee, hardly hearing the extremely spiteful conversation with which the others were enthralled, but thinking her own thoughts about the same three people —Royde, Mrs Royde and Fay. Dearly though she loved Fay, she knew that the only one of those three capable of feeling deeply, of suffering deeply, was the quiet woman with the tragic eyes, fated to love a man who was not worthy of her. The door was half open, as usual in hot weather, and from her place on the settee Christine, could look out into the alley-way, which was hidden from the others, who sat side by side on Mrs Parr's bunk. When John StanIhope came along the alley-way, his rubber-soled shoes making no sound, and signed to her to come, Christine slipped out of the cabin unnoticed. She could hear the sharp, eager voices of Mrs Parr and Miss Crane continuing their gossip without a break. (To be continued.)