"CRASH!"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 31 October 1939, Page 10

"CRASH!"

’‘COPYRIGHT. *"■ PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY

ARTHUR APPLIN.

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

CHAPTER XXII. (Continued 1 “For Peggy's sake! She’s worth taking a little trouble over, isn’t she?” Brooke groaned. “The things I have done for- women! .. . All right! At what hour do they beat the dinner gong?” “Seven o’clock, I’m afraid,” Johnny said. “Savages! I can’t imagine anyone who eats cold mutton and rice pudding at seven o’clock having the guts to be a,crook. “That’s .where you’re wrong!” Johnny laughed. “After two or three Sundays in Bayswater, I’ve almost been persuaded to be a crook myself. I believe people only turn to crime as a means of escape.” “From themselves . . .But it’s no good, my boy. The only thing you can’t escape from in this world is yourself—for your self holds on to you like an octopus until you die!” CHAPTER XXIII. They arrived at the boarding-house five minutes late on purpose. Johnny introduced Michael as “Mr Bland.” He felt a little nervous at first, because he was sure Brooke would not fit into the menage, and conventional people always distrust anyone unlike thems,elves. Dinner began badly with soup, obviously tinned, slightly chilled, and conservation quite frigid; the weather of course; the price of things, the various complaints from which each of the guests suffered. ■ At first Brooke took no pari in the desultory conversation and showed no interest in anything but his food. Watching him, Johnny was struck to see how he had changed his personality; even his clothes looked different; they didn’t seem to fit. He gave the impression of being rather shy and.self-conscious. The Colonel remarked that Johnny’s little holiday had done him good and asked him where he had been. Johnny said, to the South Coast. “Ah, there’s nothing like a breath of sea air! We are thinking of taking a little trip somewhere, aren’t we, my dear?” Colonel Phillipson said, looking at his wife. “The difficulty is, where to go: travelling costs money these days.” "What’s the matter with England?” Brooke asked.

“Hotels expensive and bad, and there nothing to do. I like a bit of excitement when I take a holiday.” After dinner, when they found themselves in the smoking-room, Brooke offered the Colonel a cigar. “They’re quite safe,” he smiled. “I was in business in Cuba once. That would be a good place for a holiday, or South America—women are almost as good as the tobacco!”

“Couldn’t afford it,” the Colonel grunted; “the voyage, I mean. Anyway, I’ve had enough of the Argentine—too many robbers and thieves there. This is very fine tobacco.” He held the glowing end of the cigar under his nose. “My wife wants to go somewhere in Europe. I’ve had a bit of luck —my old aunt died the other day and left me a nice little bit of money.” “That’s good luck!” Johnny said. “Hope you won’t gamble it all away backing horses.” The colonel puffed out his cheeks. “Don’t you believe it! When I get a bit, I stick to it. What about a game of contract? Come on, Makato —you Chinese invented cards, didn’t you?” To Johnny’s surprise Makato agreed. Carefully putting a marker in the book he was reading, he got up. Johnny noticed that it was the novel Pansy Jones had lent him. “Shouldn’t have thought you’d have bothered with tripe of that sort!” The Chinaman smiled. “I read it so that I may learn to - understand the English character.” “Well, you won’t get it from that!” the Colonel said. “There isn’t a single decent character in it.”

Johnny glanced at Makato and at Phillipson. “The detective who found where the documents were hidden was a pretty smart fellow,” he said. : The Colonel spread the cards on the table. “Let’s cut for partners. I’m not too good, but my luck’s in.” He made a grimace as he cut with Makato. “We’ll sit where we are,” he said. “What points do you like?” he asked Brooke.

“Well, sometimes I play as low as threepence, occasionally as high as five shillings a hundred.” Phillipson clicked his teeth, picked up the cards he had dealt before replying. “Oh, well, pretty high—five shillings; but nothing venture, nothing have, as they say. Let’s make it five shillings.” “After seeing my hand,” Makato said, with a delicate irony, “I would prefer far smaller points. Shall we make it sixpence, Mr Johnny?”

“That’s enough for me,” Johnny replied. He tried to catch Brooke’s eye. It was absolutely fantastic for Phillipson to play for five shillings a hundred; when he played bridge upstairs in the drawing-room the points were a penny, and twopence. Brooke refused to look at him; he was lying back comfortably in his chair, a cigar between his lips, holding his cards so carelessly that it would be quite easy for either of his opponents to see what they were.

The Colonel and Makato won the first game and then the rubber, 950 points. “What do you say to that Makato?” the Colonel cried exultingly, “I admit I held the cards, but you’ll agree I played them well.”

“Your finesses were—inspired!” the Chinaman said softly. Johnny would have used another word, for he had seen the Colonel continually taking a peep at Brooke’s hand. The tempta- ] tation was great, because he held his cards so carelessly. He was playing badly too, making really wicked calls; they lost the second rubber and the

third. Johnny suggested they should go upstairs and listen to the wireless. The Colonel looked disappointed as he stuffed the notes Brooke gave him into his pocket—he had won over a fiver. “Sorry I’ve robbed you! You must come again and have your revenge, Mr Bland.” “Thanks,” Brooke replied, “I’d like to. By the way, when are you starting on your holiday?” “Haven’t quite decided. Depends where we go—the South of France would be a nice change —Cannes, Monte Carlo —there’s a thrill in the very names! Where would you suggest?” “Oh, the Riviera, decidedly,” Brooke laid. “Cannes —you’ll get a good game of chemi there, and see all the rich ones of the earth.” He reeled off a list of names of the men .who had made fortunes in motor cars, oil, perfumes, newspapers —and among them was Gdrcia. “Garcia—Garcia?” the Colonel repeated. “How did he make his fortune?” “In the .business in which I was once interested—cigars. He has a pretty wife with an expensive taste in jewels. When I met them last year, she’d just had a famous pearl necklace stolen in Buenos Ayres—originally Russian crown jewels, I believe. Made quite a sensation at the time. I see she’s still offering a reward, so it apparently hasn’t turned up yet.” “The Garcias are friends of yours, then?” asked the Colonel, taking the cigar which Michael offered him. “I wouldn’t say that —in business one has no friends.” When they entered the drawlingroom, Phillipson sent for his bottle of whisky and offered everyone a drink. He drew Brooke aside and asked him not to mention the points they had played for downstairs. “Miss Pearkes doesn’t like what she calls gambling in the house,” he explained. “Some of the students used to play poker here, and she had an idea it gave the house a bad name.” Pansy Jones switched on the wireless: the second news bulletin was just coming through. "Oh, we don’t want that!” she cried. “We’ll wait for the dance music.”

Brooke said: “Oh, I like to hear what is happening; there may be an S.O.S. I aways think there is something thrilling about those messages sent out all over out little island, asking for people who are lost or missing.” Pansy sniffed. “I’m sure they’re faked by people who are dying to get into the limelight.” z Johnny said: “I’m sure you’d get a kick, Pansy, if you suddenly heard the loud-speaker belch your name: — “Will Pansy Jones, last heard of in Timbuctoo, come at once to Buckingham Palace, where the second footman is lying dangerously ill.’ ” “That’s not a bit funny, Mr Harcourt!” Pansy snapped. They listened to sports results coming through, then there was a pause. “What about trying for a foreign station?” Pansy said. The announcer’s voice stopped her, and everyone in the -room grew suddenly still: “Bayswater BoardingHouse Mystery. Attempts are still being made to recover the bodies of Peggy Strong and the unknown pilot who were lost when their plane fell in flames off the Sussex coast on Wednesday last ” The voice stopped abruptly as Pansy switched off. “That’s right, dear,” Miss Pearkes said from her seat by the window. “We. don’t want to hear any more about that dreadful affair. Poor girl—what good would it do if they did find her body now?”

“None at all!” Mrs Phillipson spoke. “It would probably be burned beyond recognition.”

Unobserved, Makato moved silently towards the door, but he stopped as Brooke said: “There was a rumour last night at Rye, where we were staying, which said that the girl’s body had been recovered and that on it were valuable jewels.” Makato opened the door: “I will return the book you let me tomorrow, Miss Jones. I have nearly finished it—most thrilling!” If she heard, she didn't take any notice; she was staring at Johnny. He got up, found a box of matches on the mantlepiece, and lit a cigarette. The Colonel flicked the ash off his cigar; it fell in a heap on to the carpet “Rumours lilce that never b ave any foundation—it would have been in the newspapers and on the wireless.” He blew a cloud of smoke between his lips as he turned to Brooke. “Why, it happened four days ago. Would you say there was the least hope of recovering the bodies?” “Quite possible,” Brooke said. “Might be caught in the nets of a trawler, or be washed up along the coast. Oh yes, many weeks must pass before one can say there is no hope.” Phillipson cleared his throat noisily: “I'd lay 20 to one against it, anyway.” When Brooke left, Johnny walked with him to Bayswater Road. He waited for Brooke to speak; when he didn’t, he said: “What are your conclusions?” “Suspicions, you mean? It is one of two people: the Colonel or Makato.” “Obviously—but I distrust the obvious.” “The Colonel is short of money. He gambles—and cheats at cards ” “Well you practically asked him to look at your hand.” (To be Continued.)