"CRASH!"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 25 October 1939, Page 10

"CRASH!"

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY

ARTHUR APPLIN.

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

CHAPTER XV (Continued!

“Why, that's a tobacconist’s shop,” the Colonel blurted out, "an accommodation address." Mrs Phillipson looked at him, and he added hastily: “if I’m not mistaken. But doesn’t it say anything about the pilot, Miss Jones? here must have been a pilot in the aeroplane. By the way, where’s our young friend, Johnny Harcourt?” Miss Pearkes picked up the teapot and put it down heavily: “Oh, Colonel —what an awful thought!” In a breathless whisper Pansy said: “I shouldn’t be surprised——” ■ Everybody started at the sound of hurrying footsteps in the hall outside. As the door was flung open, Pansy Jones gave a startled cry and the newspaper crumpled up in her hands. For a moment there floated before her eyes the body of the pilot tangled in the wreckage of his ’plane. “Morning'everybody!” Johnny Harcourt cried. “Sorry I’m late. Miss PearIces, but I overslept.” He stopped short as he saw the strange expression on the faces around him: surprise in some, fear in others, and even disappointment.. “What’s happened. You look as if you’d lost half a crown and found a threepenny bit, Phillipson.” He sat down and held out his plate: “Eggs and bacon! Hooray! I’m as hungry as a hunter.” The medical student winked at Johnny as he went out. ■ “We were just arranging a memorial service for you, old boy—Pansy wasn’t quite sure if a wreath of white flowers would be suitable . . emblem of a blameless life, you know!” “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not dead yet," Johnny said cheerfully. I'll have coffee this morning, Miss Pearkes please.” No one spoke for a -few moments; one waited for the other to say something. Of course they were all intensely relieved to see Johnny! but at the same time it did rather spoil what promised to be a startling mystery- and a wonderful romance. And what marvellous publicity for a little boardinghouse and everyone connected with it . . . their names and photographs in the newspapers —! Pansy picked up her newspaper again and began to smooth out the crumpled sheets. “Evidently you haven’t heard what has happened, Mr Harcourt.” Her voice always annoyed Johnny—one of those adenoidal, disapproving voices; now it particularly jarred on him.

“Has the Premier flown to Greenland to try and sell a few big guns to the Eskimos?” he asked, filling his mouth with egg and bacon. Miss Pearkes tried to signal to Pansy Jones. They all knew that Johnny had been very fond of Peggy Strong. It would be kinder to let him find out for himself.

“The police have found Peggy Strong—perhaps you'd like to look at the paper,” Pansy Jones went on. The Colonel’s teeth clicked —they had a painful habit of advertising themselves in moments of emotion. “Is it necessary to discuss the unfortunate now? It is not quite the place or the moment to —to gloat.”

“How dare you suggest I am gloating?” Pansy cried. - “No matter what she has done, now that she is dead I trust all her sins are forgiven her.” Johnny's knife and fork rattled on his plate. He stared at Pansy: “Dead?” He leant across the table and snatched the newspaper from her. “Here! give me that paper! I don't believe it!” ■ “We don’t know for certain,” Miss Pearkes said unsteadily. “There may be some mistake. It isn’t the correct address, and there are lots of Strongs in the world.”

“Quite so!” Mrs Phillipson thought it was time she said something, but her voice was funereal: “If it had been our Peggy Strong, the police would most certainly have been round here first thing this morning.” Johnny was reading the stop-press in the newspaper. His head was bowed and his face hidden. Even Mrs Phillipson felt a little sorry for him—poor misguided young man! Suddenly he blurted out: “My God! It’s terrible —terrible! But I won’t believe it!”

Then the front door bell rang, and there was a double knock. Everyone tried to think of something to say and failed. The parlourmaid came into the room, hurried to Miss Pearkes’s side and said in a startled whisper: “There’s two gentlemen waiting to see you. miss. They're—they're from the police I think. I put them in the smokingroom.

Makato rolled up his napkin, placed it in the ring, and rose. “I greatly admire your police—the most efficient in the world.” He slipped silently out of the room, put on his coat and hat, and left the house.

Miss Pearkes said: “If you'll excuse me . . .” She took her handkerchief from her pocket as she crossed the room. She was far too upset and worried to want to cry, but she felt the occasion demanded a handkerchief—somehow it suggested mourning. "Poor kid!” Johnny said brokenly. "What a ghastly death!” He pushed his plate away—regretfully, because he was hungry; but he felt that in the circumstances it would look rather queer if he went on eating. He drank his coffee, then slowly got up and very slowly walked to the door. “I suppose I'll have to go to my office."

"That’s right, that's righth!” Phillipson said. "Keep your mind occupied. Nothing like a job of work to make one forget." Pansy Jones sniffed: "I don’t want to be unkind, but perhaps Mr Harcourt has had a very lucky escape.” At that he swung round. It was no longer necessary to act; he really felt furious. "Lucky escape!” he repeated. "What do you know about the poor girl, and who are you to judge? If you read your Bible a little more often and those trashy novels you are so

fond of a little bit less, it might be better for you!” As he opened the door he found the servant outside. “Please, sir, you are wanted in the smoking-room.” “Here, have a cheroot, my boy,” the Colonel shouted. "There’s nothing like tobacco for steadying your nerves.” Johnny shook his head; but before going into the smoking-room he lit a cigarette. Why the devil should they want to see him? he wondered. His mind raced quickly over the events that had happened from the moment he had picked up the English coast. He was certain he had left nothing on board the ’plane but the helmet and coat, and he had been careful to note that neither Brooke’s name nor the maker’s name was on either of them. He had seen no one until he reached the main road, and it was almost impossible that anyone could have seen him land in the darkness. Brooke could not have him away without incriminating himself. He walked briskly into the room. Two plain-clothes officers were standing with their backs to the window. Miss Pearkes was sitting in an armchair near the gas fire which burbled uncomfortably. He noticed that she was crying now. Strangely enough her tears gave him confidence. He stood by her side and put his hand on her shoulder; it was very thin —he could feel the shoulder-blade beneath her dress, and a wave of sympathy went through him. Hers was a rotten life—bullied by all her guests, responsible for everything that went wrong, getting all the kicks and counting all the half-pence.. . Johnny nodded to the detectives and said good-morning. One —a burly individual with a bullet-shaped head and gondola-shaped boots —said: “Are you John Harcourt? You are acquainted with the young person who was also a guest here, called Margaret Strong?” “Yes, I know Miss Peggy Strong, and I have just this moment heard of an accident that has happened, presumably to her. I gather that an aeroplane in which she was a passenger crashed into the sea somewhere off the English coast.” “You knew the young lady intimately?” ■ “Not intimately. We were friends.” “Do you know where the young lady was employed?” “I gather she had a job on a newspaper. I don’t know which, but I imagine it was a daily paper, because she always went out to work at night.” “Although you were her friend, she never told you the name of this newspaper?” Johnny shook his head: “I don’t think anyone knew—did they, Miss Pearkes?” Miss Pearkes dabbed her eyes: “No! All the newspapers seem more or less alike to me.” The detective grunted. “I should have thought,” he said, looking at Johnny, “if you were on friendly terms you would have discussed your work.” “I don’t know. It’s the last thing I want to talk about, when I leave my office. Why, when I first came here everyone thought that, because I was a chemist, I spent my day making up prescriptions!” “When did you see the young lady last?” “I think it was Sunday afternoon. We went for a walk in the Park.” “Did she 'never tell you anything about herself—her past life, for example? Had you any suspicion that she was in trouble or difficulty?” Johnny shook his' head. “What did you talk about, that Sunday afternoon?” “Well really!" Johnny said, “I should rather like to know the object of these questions. I can’t remember all we talked about, now; books, people we saw, music, dogs . . “Nothing else?” The detective picked up a bag Johnny had seen lying on the table, and recognised. It was scorched, sodden, and had lost its shape. “Can you identify this?” Johnny examined it carefully, turning it over. “Well, I cant say I do, officer; it’s rather in a mess, isn’t it?” But I do remember seeing Miss Strong with a similar sort of bag.” “I'm afraid there no doubt about it,” Miss Pearkes said. “It contained the latch-key and a cheque-book.” Johnny handed the bag back without a word. “I suppose there is no doubt then," he said, in a subdued voice. “Rather tough luck!” The detective said: “That’s all we shall want then, sir; and thank you.” At the door Johnny stopped and spoke without turning round: “I suppose you can’t give me any details, officer? Has —has the body been recovered?” “Not yet. I’m afraid there’s not much chance now.” Johnny allowed a moment or two to pass before he went out. The colonel was waiting for him in the hall. Johnny guessed he would be there. “I suppose there is no doubt about it. my boy?" Phillipson said. “No doubt at all, I'm afraid.” Phillipson shook his head. “Very sad! Body not recovered? No, I suppose not.” Was it imagination which made Johnny hear a note of relief in the Colonel’s voice? i “I suppose they identified her by the 1 bag?" “Yes,” Johnny replied, “I saw it. It had evidently been in the sea, and it was charred—horrible.” His voice was broken. He pushed past the Colonel and fumbled in the hat-rack for his' coat. Phillipson was saying: “Women's handbags are all very much alike—to me. I suppose they identified 1 her by the contents—that would solve > the mystery of her sudden disappear- 1 ance from here. Do you know if it • contained anything—suspicious?” 1 Johnny had begun to put on. his hat.

he took it oil" slowly and began to brush it slowly. “How do you mean suspicious?” Johnny had just put on his hat. He ] took it off and began to brush it slowly. “How do you mean, suspicious?” “Well, my boy, you see . . . .‘de mortuis’ . . speak no ill of the dead, and all that, but it is pretty obvious she belonged to one of those international gangs—or how did she get hold of the plane, and get away with the jewels?” “Jewels?” Johnny repeated. “Well, 1 if there were any, they are at the bot- i tom of the sea now.” He wondered, as he hurried to the tube, what made Phillipson think of ( jewels. And he wondered if the de-1 c tective would interview everyone else ( in the house —and was that why the Chinaman had slipped away so quickly " He would have to be careful —vague suspicions weren’t any good; he would be suspecting Pansy Jones or poor little Pearkes before he had finished! Still, you never could tell. A CHAPTER XVI. B No one at the office mentioned the fact that an aeroplane had been seen to fall blazing into the sea off the Sussex coast: Johnny was relieved and surprised, until—getting back his sense of proportion —he realised that an aeroplane crash was not any more “news” than a motoring accident—unless quite half a dozen people were - killed. At half-past twelve he rang up the Hotel Magnificent and asked to be put through to Michael Brooke: “Harcourt „ speaking. Can I come in at one o’clock J and eat a bone with you?” i Brooke did not reply. Johnny thought: “I have given him a shock — perhaps he did hope I'd popped out." He repeated his question. j “Why certainly!" Brooke replied. “I| thought you were away for a long weekend.” “No, I’ve put oil' my visit for a day or two.” He replaced the receiver. A sudden rush of work kept him at the office until one o'clock, and he was half an hour late in reaching the hotel. (To be Continued.)