"CRASH!"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 19 October 1939, Page 12

"CRASH!"

COPYRIGHT.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

- BY

ARTHUR APPLIN.

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

CHAPTER VII. (Continued). Johnny did not say anything; he knew by the expression in Brooke’s eyes what he was feeling. They were the eyes of a bird that has had its wings clipped and has been shut up in a cage. “Give me another cigarette—there’s a box behind you,” Brooke went on. “Now, listen! Tomorrow morning ring up Croydon and get a full weather report; then work out your triangle and velocities, and you will know what your ground speed will be. Now, have a look at this map again. From Boulogne to Abbeville is easy. Leave the forest of Crecy on your left, get your bearings from the triangle between the churches of Neuilly and Millencourt and the aerodrome. If you come down on the open ground just northeast of the 'drome, no one will pay any attention —they will simply think you are one of the planes from there that has had a forced landing. Peggy can foot it into Abbeville and pick up a train there without having to show her passport. Given reasonable luck, you can’t go wrong . . But what are you going to do with yourself and the aeroplane?” Johnny stooped down, pulled the pins out of the two maps, folded them up and put them in his pocket with the notebook: “They will find me asleep in my bed at the board house next morning—unless, of course, I am unlucky, and give the Dover soles a nice little table d’hote meal.”

“Quite, quite!” Brooke said. “You probably will.’ He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Quite!” he repeated, and now Johnny noticed that he voice had grown suddenly tired. “But what about my aeroplane? Oh, I am quite prepared to have the infernal thing smashed up. I haven’t got the guts to get rid of it. But if you crash it, questions will be asked, and I shall have to answer them. They would rather give the show away—and Peggy." Johnny picked up his hat and coat and stood by the window a moment, looking down at the street. Jolly omnibuses in bright colours rolling up and down; the tyare trees of the park making a lovely pattern against the grey sky; fat old women waddling along the pavement; and young men with bowlers and rolled umbrellas; - a newsvendor chanting, as a choir-boy chants an anthem: “Cup-tie Finals — All the Winners —Smash-and-Grab Raid in Bond Street!” . . “In the midst of life . . .” That is what really makes life worth living And did you really live, unless you were in close contact with death? The newspaper boy was passing right beneath the window now: “Cuptie Finals —Bayswater Boarding-house Mystery .. .” Johnny turned away quickly. "Do you hear that? 1 will be going!" At the door he stopped. “You don’t want me to thank you for all your help do you? You know how I feel about everything.” “I suppose we are each feeling about the same, at the present moment . . . .

But you haven’t answered my question about the aeroplane.” “Leave that to me,” said Johnny. "I may not be a flying ace, but I do know something about chemistry!” CHAPTER VIII. At the top of the staircase Johnny stopped . .. someone would certaiinly be shouting for him at the office—but he simply had to see Peggy again—it might be his last chance before they started. 1 There was a terrific amount still to be done; that was a good thing, for it prevented his getting soft and sentimental .. He ran upstairs and knocked at the door of her room. "Just came to tell you everything’s 0.K." he said as she opened the door. "You will be in Paris tomorrow night. Thanks to Brooke, our plans are absolutely fool-proof." If he was lying, she would never know. “You are taking terrible risks for my sake, Johnny." “Ordinary risks —and anyway, Brooke’s taking them, too.” “I know —but he’s different." They looked at each other, and then they both smiled. Johnny discovered there was a tremendous amount he wanted to say —but not now—and perhaps there never would be the time or the place. Peggy said: “Will you come in and sit down for a minute . . have a cigarette?" “I should like it —haven't time. By the way, I forgot to arrange with Brooke about your clothes. You want, them at once don’t you? I mean, you can't remain up here in your room for the rest of the day.” “I would rather be here than anywhere else, though I suppose I shall have to go down to the restaurant for dinner." She picked up a slip of paper from the bureau. "I have made a list. I suppose I ought to have a travelling coat. A pair of shoes and some silk stockings, and—well, here’s the list. I have put down my measurements, size of shoes and all that." She spoke breathlessly. “Do you mind asking Michael to advance the money for these things?” She pushed the list into his coat pocket. Why, he wondered angrily, were they both embarrassed and self-con-scious, and at such a moment? “That’s all right. Don’t worry about anything. I'm—l’m going to get no end of a kick out of this." "Johnny—when you get back to the boarding-house, get hold of Miss Pearkes and find out all you can —if anyone went to my room before it was searched. The pearls must have been taken by someone in the house; but who is there—even if they knew of their existence—who would have stolen them 9 ” ' Johnny took her hand and held it

against his face for a moment . . . the scent of acacia flowers . . . funny that there should have been an acacia tree at the bottom of the garden—running down the fire-escape, he had bumped into it. . . . Could someone from outside have climbed up the escape into Peggy’s room and taken the pearls? "I will turn everything in the boarding house upside down, and everyone in it inside out,” he said. “Someone there must have known you had them, and it is easy to reduce the number of possible thieves to less than half a dozen.”

He left her quickly; couldn’t trust himself if he stayed, and every moment was precious now. He drove to a shop that he vaguely remembered as looking the sort of place that caters for women of taste. He went in boldly; landed in the stocking department. He felt he could cope with stockings. A dark-haired girl with sympathetic eyes, and a sense of humour lurking in ‘hem, said: “Can I help you, sir?” “You can," he replied. “I want a few things —in a hurry—for a lady—eaving for Paris tomorrow —hasn't time to do any shopping herself." He handed her Peggy’s list. She glanced at it. looked at him and smiled —just as she might have smiled at a small boy who had come to buy marbles. She said she quite understood. Of course she thought an elopement! He let her think so and she behaved as if she were the girl he was eloping with. He bought more than Peggy asked for. Hang it all, he thought, I am eloping! When he left the shop he realised he had enjoyed himself. The assistant had promised to have everything packed and sent in a taxi to the hotel within an hour. It was nearly four o’clock when Johnny reached the office; luckily no one had been inquiring for him, but there was a mass of papers on his desk requiring attention. He worked late and got back to the boardinghouse just in time for dinner. The instant he went into the dining-room, everyone shot questions at him. “What did he think of their tame journalist now? Were there any fresh developments reported in the evening paper? Had he missed anything from his room?”

A Chinese youth, studying law, alone raised his voice in Peggy’s defence. “Come off it, Chink!” the medical student cried. “What do you know about her?”

“I think I know a little about you all.” he replied looking round the table; and each person there saw himself reflected in those cold, almondshaped eyes. In my country we are taught to read character —for the face is a photograph of the mind. Miss Strong is no thief: a political agent or a spy even; the secret service is fond of employing women . . isn't it, Colonel?" The colonel said: “Pooh. She's not enough inteligence; probably picked up something from a bargain basement, somewhere. All this mystery is a newspaper stunt.” Pansy Jones pursed her lips. “A professional crook, that’s what I say. I warned Miss Pearkes that she was up to no good, the day she arrived—didn't I, dear?”

Miss Pearkes,- looking hot and uncomfortable, said it was too early to judge. “I'm inclined to agree with the Colonel,” Johnny said, thinking it was time he joined in the discussion. “The way these big stores display their goods, might tempt anyone, don't you agree. Miss Jones?” Pansy’s face crimsoned. “Don’t put such naughty ideas into a good woman’s head.” the medical student cried. “It’s all right, dearie, I haven’t bought a tube of shaving cream or a safety blade for the last year.”

Betty Bare, a blue-eyed, golden-hair-ed. small-part cinema actress at Elstree, said: “You are a one, George,” and kicked him, warning him haughtily the next moment that if he didn't keep his feet to himself he would have to provide her with a new pair of stockings. Instead of going to bed and getting a good night’s rest, Johnny sat in the smoking-room until midnight. It had occurred to him that it was strange the Chinese, Makato, should have troubled to defend Peggy, especially as he couldn’t have seen her on more than two or three occasions. Makato was ready to talk, on art or literaature or politics, but he had lost interest in Peggy. "It is extraordinary,” he said dejectedly, “you English who are so successful, can think and discuss nothing but sport and crime!”

Nothing to be got out of him. And quite impossible to read character or thoughts from a Chinaman's face. But Johnny remembered that Makato’s bedroom was on the same floor at Peggy’s; alongside it was Colonel and Mrs Phillipson’s room; both overlooked the gardens. On certain days Makato spent several hours in his room reading. As the Colonel was going to bed. Johnny stopped him; suggested a final nightcap—a suggestion Philipson had never been known to refuse. "What do you really think about this affair?” he asked. The Colonel sipped his whisky—a double one, and Johnny was paying for it. “Peggy Strong, you mean? You were rather keen on her. weren't you? Yes; well, from the first I thought there was something strange about her. She never attracted me.” "That's just what attracted me —her strangeness." “Pchaps if I’d been your age . . . . attractive mouth .. . good legs. I don't think so, though. Did she ever confide in you?” “No; I never questioned her. We were just friends —many things in common.” “Chemistry wasn't one of them, I imagine!” Phillipson chuckled and emptied his glass; he had been doing himself well all the evening and his nose giving the warning signal—stop!

“Still, you moderns seem to be mixing love and chemistry together, and heaven alone knows what the future generation will be like.” He suggested another drink. Wheirthe glasses were filled he said: “If you take my advice, young man, you'll forget all. about Peggy Strong.” “Perhaps you are right, but you must have some reason for saying that. You know something—perhaps Makato is right, and she is a spy?” “Nonsense! Just the silly sort of idea that would emanate from a Chinaman’s brain. A spy, indeed —if she were I shouldn’t be surprised to hear she was in the Chink’s employ.” That suggestion gave Johnny rather a shock, for he remembered Makato arrived at the boarding-house about a week before Peggy engaged her room; and at dinner the Chinaman had been eager to defend her. He was feeling the nervous strain of the last 24 hours; of course, Peggy would have told him if Makato was in any way connected with the pearls. “Did the police question you?” Johnny asked.

“Oh yes. I was asked a few questions this morning, but they didn't get anything out of me.” “Well, if you'd known anything, or even suspected,” Johnny said with assumed carelessness.

Phillipson blew out his cheeks, back to the fire and cleared his throat: “I don’t believe in giving expression to opinion that may be groundless,” he said pompously. “But between you and me, I’ve had my doubts about the young lady for some time. Not a word of this to a living soul!” Johnny nodded. “The other day when I was at bank 1 saw her paying in a large sum of money. And I've seen her visiting that large pawnbroker’s at Notting Hill Gate.” “Oh!" Johnny said, being unable to think of anything better to say, and then added: "Poor girl!” Phiillipson blew out his cheeks. “Poor girl! I tell you, she had always plenty of money—and no friends. If you don't call that suspicious ... Of course, if I knew anything definite, I wouldn't tell the police: but as I don’t, I think it is best to keep my mouth shut, don’t you? I should like to know what has happened to her. though. I would very much like to know that." He moved towards the door, steering a rather erratic course. Johnny opened it for him: “I hope you haven’t lost your heart, my boy." Phillipson said, putting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “She didn't steal that, eh?” Johnny laughed. “Oh, no! She didn't take that.” He wailed until the Colonel reached the top of the stairs, then followed him. He stood a moment outside the Phillipson’s door and heard them talking. He resisted the temptation to listen, though if he were to be an amateur detective ,he would have to do some dirty work sooner or later. Johnny glanced at the door of the Chinaman's room. Rather a mysterious fellow —but on Ihe whole Johnny felt more inclined to trust Makato than anyone else in the house. He went to his own room, tumbled into bed, and —surprisingly enough —slept like a log. (To be Continued.)