"CRASH!"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 November 1939, Page 10

"CRASH!"

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY

ARTHUR APPLIN.

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

CHAPTER XXV. (Continued!

Miss Pearkes was folding the outside • pages of a newspaper, when a hole in it caught her eye and she threw it I aside and picked up another. The paper fell at Johnny’s feet. He stared at it, wondering what he was going to do now. He would have to find out where Phillipson had gone and follow him without losing a moment. He found himself concentrating on the small gap in the front page of the newspaper that Miss Pearkes had discarded. An advertisement had been cut out from the personal column. Stooping down, he picked it up. Why had the colonel cut out that advertisement, and to what had it referred? He looked at the date —a date that was engraved in his memory—the Monday when he had gone to the “Lovelies” and recognised Peggy, and had returned to the boarding-house to discover the police were waiting for her! Johnny glanced at his watch: it was three o'clock. Telling Miss Pearkes he would be in to dinner, he threw his bag into his room and hurrying to the tube took the train to the City. A! the newspaper office he turned up the files of the paper, and found the copy he wanted, with the advertisement Colonel Phillipson had cut out: — £l,OOO REWARD will be paid to anyone giving information leading to the recovery of pearl necklace stolen from Senora Garcia in Buenos Ayres last November; 175 perfect graded pearls strung in two rows; square sapphire clasp surrounded by diamonds. Communicate Box G. 605.” Johnny suppressed a cry of exultation. Here, at last, was evidence, and in a few minutes, with any luck, he would be able to prove that it was the colonel who had stolen the necklace from Peggy’s room and was now hoping to claim the reward. Going to the advertisement office, he managed to persuade the manager to give him the advertiser’s name and address: Jackson and Blinks, of Lincoln's Inn. It took him half an hour to reach Lincoln’s Inn; he was left to kick his heels in a dreadful little waiting-room which smelt like a graveyard. A dusty window stared out at a grey stone wall: on the shiny surface of the inkstained table was a copy of the New Testament, and a sporting magazine. Johnny was trying to determine the relationship which the two bore to each other, and to a solicitor’s office, when the clerk returned and showed him into Mr Blink’s room. Blinks was a round, self-satisfied little man, blinking through a pair of large glasses. Johnny sat down on a hard, prickly chair. Blinks listened to what he had to say, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, while one while, carefully manicured hand tapped the desk impatiently.

“I’m afraid you have told me nothing that I didn't know already." he said, when Johnny had finished. "For some time we have been in touch with a certain person who professes to know who stole Mrs Garcia’s necklace and where it is to be found, but like you. he refuses to

fuses to divulge the secret. Do you know the thief?" He peered at Johnny over the top of his glasses. Johnny said "Originally the pearls were picked up in a street in Buenos Ayres. They were stolen later on. And I know by whom!" "Are you prepared to swear to that?” "I am prepared to go straight to Mrs Garcia, give her the information I've got, and leave her to take whatever action she likes. I’d like her present address, and it would be a good thing if you phoned her to expect me during the next 24 hours; tell her to accept no information concerning her jewels until she has seen me.” At first Blinks hesitated, hummed and hawed: Johnny was insistent. Realising at last that there wasn’t much object in withhold Mrs Garcia’s address, Blinks gave it him and agreed to telephone her: “She is staying at the Hotel Continental, Cannes. Are you proposing to fly over, young man?” “Most certainly I am! Good-bye, and thank you.”

Blinks got up: he felt agitated; he felt as if he had been drawn into some conspiracy. "Look here!" he cried, “you mean to say you are giving up your work, flying across Europe, risking your life, without hope of any reward and merely for love of—of—?” “You’ve said it! Merely for love of a —girl!" Rather a silly thing to have said, but the old buffer had asked for it.

Johnny felt right on top of the world again. In a few hours he would see Peggy . . .he would take her with him to Cannes. Why not? Without her he couldn't very well prove anything. And they weren’t out. of the wood yet. by a long way! CHAPTER XXVI. The last Paris plane had loft Croyron, so he took the night mail boat via Dieppe and arrived in Paris at six o'clock. lie had sent Peggy a telegram warning her to expect him, but when he knocked at the door of the flat in the rue de Clignancourt there was no answer. He banged a second time, loudly, not caring if he woke the whole block. To his relief he heard a sleepy voice say: “Is that Johnny? Half a moment, dear. I must put on a face!"

He was too impatient to bo flattered —if it made any difference! When at last she opened the door, she told him she had received his telegram. "I got everything ready for breakfast before I went to bed this morning. I gave Dick my room last night and slept here so could be dy f - We

He didn’t know what to say—was terribly afraid of saying something conventional like: "It is nice to see you again," or "How light it is in the morning now!" or "What dreadful weather we’ve been having!”

He looked at the little table in the middle of the room, with its blue-and-white check cloth and a bowl of daffodils. From the kitchen came a smell of freshly-ground coffee. When Peggy shouted: “You'd like eggs, wouldn’t you?” he felt as if he had just returned home again. He could have laughed or cried at that moment. He forgot all about the Garcias, the jewels, Colonel Phillipson and dead bodies in the English Channel. He felt superbly happy and utterly contented. Breakfast ready, they sat down on either side of the table: familiar noises drifted faintly from the street through the half-open window: two fingers of sunshine felt their way across the floor and found Peggy. Johnny said: “I see you're still wearing those pyjamas I got you in London.”

"First time I’ve worn them since you were last here —they are jolly, aren’t they? And you—how are you, Johnny?” And then their eyes met and they both laughed. “Oh, I’m feeling jolly, too!" said Johnny. “As you've probably guessed, things’ have happened. I simply dared not write or wire—in fact, it was only in the last 24 hours that I have been able to prove my suspicions. I know now who stole your pearls, Peggy.” “Johnny!" She glanced towards the bedroom. "You've brought them with you?" He shook his head. For a moment she had really believed he had go them in his suit-case, or in his coat pocket. Her eyes, which had grown brilliant with excitement, clouded over and the whole expression of her face changed. Johnny thought: It’s only the pearls that matter: I don't—yet! Well, that was natural enough! He said: “I know where they are. I'm on my way to get them.”

She jumped up, her eyes sparkling again: “Johnny, how marvellous! Certain there’s'no mistake? I must wake Dick and tell him. The last week he has been worrying his head off, certain the police were on his tracks.” “Wait a moment! The man who has the necklace isn't in Paris; he’s on his way to the Riviera. We’ve got to follow him apd get there before he hands them over to the owners and claims the reward.”

She was standing with her back to the bedroom door, staring at him as if trying to read his thoughts: “We ? You want me to go with you?" He told her everything that had happened. When she didn’t speak, he said: “You’re not afraid?” She threw the word back at him contemptuously: "Was 1 afraid when you flew me over here?” “But you were running away from danger then: now I’m running you into it.” ‘T've been taking chances all my life. If it weren’t for Dick I think I’d rather enjoy being a sort of female Ishmael." “I believe that’s what I sensed about you when first we met in Bayswater that you were a wanderer on the face of the earth." “I shall always be that. But. we’re wasting time. I’ll tell Dick. Is he coming with us?” Johnny shook his head: "Not necessary if it is, we can send for him.” He got up from the table, glanced at his watch, and drank a final cup of coffee standing. "I’ll g 0 out and telephone the aerodrome, find out what time the Cote d’Azur plane leaves. Get into some clothes before I come back, and pack a suit-case.” "What do I want?” i

He looked at her over his shoulder as he reached the .door, and smiled. "Oh, something to sleep in, and something to eat in! That’ll be enough. Darling, I haven’t told you what it feels like—seeing you again, being with you. I just can’t. I'm not going to tiy to, until we’ve got those pearls back. Then well, you’ll have to look out for yourself!” “All right!” she laughed. “And there’s something I want to tell you. only you must promise to go straight out through that door directly I do." He nodded. "I know now that —I adore you, Johnny.” They left Le Bourget, just after elevon. The pilot flew high. There was a fair amount of cloud. Early in the afternoon the Mediterranean suddenly appeared, like a bright blue stone lying in a platinum setting—flat, still, gistening and hard. But when the plane descended, the setting resolved itself into mountains cumbered with fii' and pine trees, and beyond, more mountains with fantastic olive trees crawling up their sides, and white villas surrounded by palms, eucalyptus and mimosa.

"It’s good to be back here," Peggy said, when they had landed and were driving into Cannes. She was holding his hand—and quite unconscious of it. Her attitude towards life was that of a child now: she was shy, excited, eager, and a little nervous of what might be waiting for her. He was wondering where to stay: he didn’t know any of the hotels, neither did Peggy. As they approached the Boulevard de la Croisette, the driver asked where they were going. On a sudden inspiration Johnny said: “Hotel Continental.” Peggy looked at him in amaz.emei 1 1 “My dear, that's on,-' pensive, isn’t if