"CRASH!"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 16 October 1939, Page 10

"CRASH!"

‘ COPYRIGHT. ■ "

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY

ARTHUR APPLIN.

Author of “Adventure for Two,” “Winning Through,” “Cold Cream, etc.

CHAPER IV. (Continued). "Pull yourself together, Peggy.” he said sharply. "We shall be attracting attention in a minute. Come into the lounge. We can find a quiet corner there, and you must tell me what is wrong." l She looked up, pushed the hair back from her face, and took up the cigarette she had dropped, crushed it between her lingers and asked for another. “I can’t tell you anything. What would be the good, anyway? you couldn’t help me.” For a moment he thought —how far was he prepared to go? What risks was he prepared to take? “Look at me,” he said quietly. She shrugged her shoulders: “I am looking at you—but how can you see' me, all dolled up like this?” He took a long breath. Im her eyes he saw himself reflected. He knew that in fighting for her he was fighting for himself —a part of himself, without which he would be incomplete. He said: “I love you. I can help you.” He rose, picked her bag up from the table where she had left it lying. He took her hand, and as they walked towards the lounge a girl with <a tall, dark man stopped them. Johnny recognised her as one of the ‘-Lovelies”: “Hullo, Peg! Not off yet, are you?” she said.

“Yes, I’ve got rather a head.” “How rotten! Look here, Mario has asked us all up to his rooms. There’s a piano, and bubbly, and we are going to have eggs and bacon. You simply must come, and bring your friend.” “Thanks awfully. We’ll join you later,” Johnny said quickly. “Cheerio! Mario's got a suite on the first floor —No. 69.” Peggy did not speak until they reached the lounge. It was deserted, except for a sleepy waiter supporting himself against a pillar at the far end. They sat down in an alcove, behind a cluster of palms. “Why did you say that? I simply couldn’t face a party.” “Easiest way to get rid of them! Besides, you might find it useful to have somewhere to go . . Now then —what havp you done, and why do the police want you?” She gave a twist to the cigarette between her fingers: “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. If you believed me, you would probably give me away . . . Why not?” as he made a gesture. “Suppose —suppose I had killed someone?” v He took her hand. “Out with it!" For a few moments, which seemed like minutes to Johnny, she sat looking at him. At last she said. “All right! Tell me first —this man from Scotland Yard —do you think he intends waiting for me all night? Supposing I don’t turn up by three or four o’clock, won’t he go away and come back in the morning?” “I shouldn't think so. It depends, perhaps, on what you have done." “Supposing I were a thief?”

That gave him a shock but he said: “Quite a fashionable profession nowadays! Given sufficient temptation, any one of us might fall.”

Her cigarette had gone ,0111. She asked for a match, and as he struck it, she said: “Supposing I tell you nothing. explain nothing, but ask you to—to steal something for me! Do you think you would be tempted?” "No,” he said quietly. “I should not. But there is nothing I would not do to save you, if you were in clanger.” At that, she pulled herself together. "I am in danger already!" She laughed softly. “Someone I love is in danger too.” She glanced down the lounge at the waiter: “I suppose it’s too late to get a drink?” Johnny nodded. “I feel as if my inside were dropping out —you know?" “That’s how I felt yesterday, when I told you I loved you.” “I wonder if you do? Well, I’m going to trust you, Johnny. I have got to. Listen. In my room at the boardhouse is a pearl necklace. I am not sure of its value —a few thousand pounds. It was stolen from Senor Garfeia’s wife in an hotel at Buenos Ayres. That is all I can tell you now. I have schemed, and worked, and sweated to get hold of it, and having succeeded — someone must have found out and given me away. Someone at the boarding house !” “That is not likely.” . She gave him a quick glance; he thought he saw suspicion in her eyes. "Why do you say that? You don't know people as I do—how mean, how petty, how vindictive they can be! Anyway, now you know why I am wanted.” "Go on.”

“I am not really a thief.” "Well, the best thing you do is to come back to the boarding-house with me, face this fellow from Scotland Yard, and explain." She flicked the ash off her cigarette: "How very British you are! Explain to Scotland Yard! They don’t listen to explanations, my dear. Once you are suspected, you are damned. I wouldn't explain, if they tortured mo! I have got to get hold of that necklace, before they search my room and find it." "Where have you hidden it?”

"Where nobody can possibly find it —on the top of my wardrobe, in that little hollow that runs behind the. skirting—do you know? Even if anyone stood on a chair and looked over, he wouldn't see it. You have to put your hand down and grope. It is in a flat leather case, wrapped up in a bit of paper.”

Johnny called the waiter and ordered two cups of coffee. When the man had left the lounge, he said: “If I go back and get it for you, what then? If they haven't searched your room, they will eventually, and when they realize you have disappeared, detective-:

will comb every quarter of London for you. The stations and airports will be watched. And where are you going to sleep tonight? Can you get a room here?" He walked over to one of the windows and looked out. There was' not a light to be seen, not a sound to bo heard. “There is a real black fog,” he said. “That is a good enough excuse. You had better go to the bureau, explain, and ask for a room. Supposing you can get out of London before the police are on your track, whore will you go?" “Paris." “Why Paris?” “I can get rid of the necklace there.” She noticed a change of expression on his face. “Now you are beginning to doubt me. Johnny, you must trust me, —whatever I am—whatever I have done.” She got up. “I am trusting you—l mean, I have put myself in your power. After all, how do I know what you will do when you get back to the boarding-house? You may give me away to the police; or when you find the pearls, you may change your mind, or —anything.” He looked at her as she stood there before him —a crook? —a thief? —"a lit-tle-bit-o’-fun?” He smiled, and leaning forward, took both her hands. It didn’t matter —he loved her!

The waiter was returning with their coffee. “Go straight to the bureau and book your room,” Johnny said quickly. “Come back and tell me the number. Then join your friends’ party. You can tell them I am a newspaper man, and have got to get a story off, and will look in later. Even if I have to walk and run the whole way, I can do it in just over an hour.” Johnny paid the waiter, poured himself out a cup of coffee, and lit a cigarette. When Peggy came back, she told him that her room was No. 316, on the fifth floor. “In case of accidents, if the party is over you had better bring the case there.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You won’t fail me, will you Johnny? I might catch the Continental train from Victoria in the morning. I have got my passport here in the dressing-room. You see, it is made out in the name of Peggy Penshurst.” He felt the hand on his arm trembling, and- —but it might have been imagination—he thought there were tears in her eyes, as she said boldly: “You see, I am quite professional! And I have got a small suit case here; you might shove my toothbrush and pyjamas in your pocket, if you like.” He walked with her to the lift and watched it out of sight. When he found himself outside in Park Lane, Johnny hesitated. Was he mad? he wondered. The next moment he was hurrying towards Marble Arch quite mad, probably—or else the only sane man in a mad world! The fog lay in_patches; in places almost impenetrable, but here and there th atmosphere was comparatively clear. When he reached Pembridge Gardens, he looked. A light was still shining from the dining-room. He climbed the wall and went carefully up the fire escape. Here all the windows were in darkness and more of them tightly closed. Thank the Lord for stuffy people he thought. He knew Peggy's room, adjoining his own. The window was open a few inches. He pulled it down, climbed in quietly, drew the curtains close, and opened his cigarette lighter. He drew a chair up to the wardrobe, groped as Peggy had told him, found the case. Thrusting it into his pocket, he glanced quickly round the room. He smiled as he found the pyjamas and toothbrush. Then he opened the dressing-table drawer —handkerchiefs? stockings? He shoved a few of each into his pockets. It was lucky he did so, for he then caught sight of a bank pass-book and cheque book and took them as well. He was started by a sound from the adjoining room. Putting out his light, he moved cautiously to the window and listened. The noise came again, and he laughed as he recognised it — the Colonel snoring! He wondered why he was breathless as he dropped from the wall into Pembridge Road. He could hear his heart hammering. It was black as pitch, and he had to grope his way slowly, guided at intervals by the blurred lamplight. A puff of cold wind fanned his cheek as he got into the Bayswater Road, and the fog rolled away before it. There was a single taxi on the rank.

“Get me to the Magnificent Hotel as quickly as you can!” The driver looked at him doubtfully. “Easier said than done. It is all right here, but higher up the fog is chronic.”

“Times are hard. If you want to earn ten bob. have a shot at it." The taxi did it in about 25 minutes—quicker than he could have walked, anyway. Johnny gave the night porter the number of Mario’s room and said he would walk up. “Afraid I’m a bit late,” he said, as he went in. The room seemed full of tobacco-smoke, girls, and laughter. “That's all right!” Mario said thickly: "You are in time for a cold kipper, and Peggy’s kept a glass of wine for you.” Peggy was lying curled up on the sofa. She waved her hand:’ “Got your story off all right?” “Yes. everything 0.K.,” he replied. He dropped his hat and coat in the corner of the room. Mario took them up and, going out, hung them in the hall. Peggy’s friend—an ash-blonde with round black eyes—gave him a drink, while Mario warmed him up a kipper on a chafing dish. Johnny discovered he was hungry. One of the girls sat down at the piano and began to improvise. Mario lowered the lights, Johnny’s eyes wan-

dered round the room; now the blue cigarette-smoke gave it a pleasing atmosphere of mystery. The girls—one lying on the floor, another hugging her knees on a pile of cushions, a third on the arm of the Chesterfield, her hand resting on Peggy’s shoulder —more gracious and beautiful pictures; and the music—was it Chopin—was soothing and refreshing. Johnny was anxious to get away, however. He felt as if all the evening he had been under a spell, and now he had reached the climax . . Who were all these people? What were they really doing and thinking. There were two men in the background, who had not spoken; five “Lovelies," and Mario. All strangers. He did not really know Peggy—lie only thought he did! If he could see inside each of them and read their thoughts . . crook,s, “little-bits-o’fun,” gangsters—why not? Perhaps they all knew that in the pocket of his coat, hanging outside,' there was a priceless pearl necklace! Perhaps they were all in league together! . . If he was not careful, in another minute he would be hurrying off to Scotland Yard with the necklace . . He looked at Peggy, made an effort, and pulled himself together, ashamed of his thoughts. The music stopped. “Sorry,” he said, “I really must go. I have an early morning call.” Peggy yawned, stretched, and got up: “Me too! Thanks so much for the party, Mario!” She followed Johnny into the hall as he was putting on his coat. Together they walked along the corridor to the main staircase. “I will see you to your room,” he said. “The others are coming.” (To be Continued.)