“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 9 December 1939, Page 10

“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By

LESLIE BERESFORD.

Author of “Mr Appleton Awakes,” "The Other Mr North,” etc.

CHAPTER I.

Continued. “I’m terribly sorry. Rose ” “Sorry?” she stepped away from him, her brown eyes ablaze, her small face white with anger. She laughed suddenly, bitterly. “Oh. you needn't be that. Don’t worry yourself, John Peters. I've humiliated myself for nothing —nothing.” Then, as she turned to go into her father’s house, she stopped, and laughed again, a little hysterically. “Perhaps, after all, it won’t be for nothing!” she said defiantly. ‘No. I don’t see why it should be, either.” With which she was gone, a human flash of lightning, leaving Peters a little stunned, and feeling very unhappy about it all. It was not his fault, of course, that this had happened. So far from giving Rose Hughson the slightest hint of interest in her, or encouraging any in her for him, he had done all he could to avoid her without being impolite. He felt it a pity that she should adopt this attitude of bitter resentment towards him, for he had to admit to himself that he quite liked her. In any other position than his own, he might easily have thought of marrying her. But any idea of marriage was not in his mind. He could only hope that, when she came to think things over more calmly, she would not feel so badly about it. He had, in fact, dismissed her from his mind as he made his way to the quarters he occupied just outside -the airport. These consisted of a concrete block of comfortable bachelor flats on modern lines, where all the pilots were housed, so as to be conveniently handy in case of an emergency call, as sometimes was necessary.

Whi|e he unlocked the front door of his flat, he was hailed and joined by two others, just emerging from a door along the corridor. They hurried towards him, following him into his rooms, where he flung aside his flyingkit, and wasted no time helping himself to a cooling drink, for the weather was intenselj' hot. “Say boys,” he laughed, inviting them to join him, “I don’t know when I’ve experienced such a corker as today has been, even away up above. You both had good trips?” “To my mind every trip's a bad one!” answered the burlier of the two in a broad Irish brogue, swigging down a drink. "It’s completely fed-up, I am. with this measly company of ours, and that browbeating devil of a manager

“The companys not so bad, Dan,’ intervened the other, a slim and goodlooking young French-Canadian. “No. the company's no worse than any of the others in this air-ramp. Hughson's all the trouble, and things won't be any better while he has all the say. I’ve just had a disagreeable ten minutes with him, myself, not an hour ago. The hot weather hasn’t improved his temper any.” Peters finished his drink, and then lighting a cigarette, laughed. “So Hughson’s feeling that way at the moment, is he?” said he. “Well, maybe it’s just as well he won’t be seeing me till tomorrow, Pierre boy. I’d be like a red rag to a bull. But I’m due my rest, and when that’s over he may have cooled down.” “All the same," he added seriously. “I'm beginning to think it’s time some of us got together and recommended to Hughson that this is a commercial syndicate, and he’s only a manager —not a dictator. Things are getting just a bit too hectic to be passed over, to my mind." “Nom de Dieu!" the French-Cana-dian, Pierre de Brissac, shrugged. “It might be easy enough to put this Hughson in his place if all we pilots did get together. But —outside we three —who’s going to join in? Most of them are in dead fear of losing their jobs. When they’re not in the air, they’re on their knees licking Hughson’s boots.” “No,” he said to Peters. “We’ve just got'to grin and bear it, I guess. None of us, anyhow, get it in the neck from him quite so badly as you.” ‘Ah . . .” Peters, his face shrouded by a blue haze of cigarette smoke, chuckled grimly. “There's a very good reason for that." “Sure, and I'll be after telling ye what the reason is, my boy,” the Irishman, O'Corrigan, interposed laughingly. “It's because you don't pay enough attention to that swell daughter of his. She’s a dainty piece of goods, anyhow, and it’s a bit surprising to me, John, that you don't make up to her — "Well, you know —both of you—that I've always said, so long as I'm flying I'm not hitching my wagon to any star in the way of women. No. sirs. And. anyhow. Rose Hughson hasn't anything to do with the trouble between her father and me. I've not as yet told you what it really is. but the time's coming when I think I might as well let you boys into the truth." "Seeing that Pierre and I have been figuring out something pretty serious is lyiiH behind that Hughson divil’s down on ye, and couldn't be after understanding it at all. John, it's sure time ye took up into your confidence as pals " “Yes, but because we're pals there's no reason why you two should fall foul of Hughson as well as me. I wouldn't have that for the world, boys. And if I told you just what was behind it altknowing you as I do—l'd be a bit scared of you wanting to go round and' I beat the blighter up " I “Say. it's like that, is it, John?' asked 1 Pierre do Brissac with a shrill little

whistle of surprise. Peters gestured to them both.

“You two help yourselves to drinks and smokes, while 1 get a quick tub and a change," he said. “Then we’ll go over to the mess, and l‘ll tell you the worst over a good meal —’’ However, as Peters moved to go through to the bathroom, he was held up by the jangling of the telephone He snatched it up impatiently, spoke into it, and then listened, while the others watched him. He frowned, looking impatient, and then said, protestingly: “Say, I’m only just in from that last trip. I haven't even bathed yet, let alone had any eats. I'm entitled to that much, surely ”

Apparently, he was interrupted sharply from the other end of the wire for he listened. The others saw how his face became grim and cynical. Then, snappily, he said: “I’ll be right over.” He slammed down the received and turned to the others.

“That was Hughson,” he told them. ' “Wants to see me straight away about something important. Can’t even wait while I snatch a tub and a bite. Boys, I think Mr Hughson and I are going to understand each other very definitely tonight.” CHAPTER 11. ' Five minutes later, Peters was cooling his heels in the entrance lounge of the quite luxuriously furnished house, fitting as the residence of so important an official as the general manager of West-Central Airways. As he waited after quite a while, a door opened and the general manager himself stood on the threshold of the room within. With him was his daughter. Rose, who flung a quick glance towards Peters, said something laughingly to her father, and disappeared through another doorway. Her father, a stock-ily-built man with iron-grey hair, and a close-clipped moustache, turned deep-set, gleaming eyes in the direction of Peters. "Come right in,” he said curtly, leaving Peters to follow him within and close the door. The room had the appearance of an office, with modern furnishings and chromium-plated fittings. Hughson established himself at a broad writing table, on which papers were tidilyheaped, and there stood a telephonic attachment which looked complicated. "See here, Peters,” he said, throwing himself back in his his chair. “I want lo know if you’ve changed your mind yet. over—that little matter we discussed together some weeks ago. The little matter of ”

"No need to be definite, Mr Hughson,”’ Peters interrupted tersely. “And, if you've only sent for me to ask me that question, you've wasted your time and mine. You've delayed a beautiful and promising bath —" t

“Bath —be damned!" rattled the other, chewing the clipped ends of his grey moustache as he eyed Peters angrily, then—as though suddenly acquiring a certain unwilling respect for the other —changed expression, manner and even the tone of his voice. “I'm sorry. Peters,” he said then. “I ought not to have rushed you over here like this, I know. But—l had reasons. Are you suggesting to me that you really haven't changed your mind yet about that —little matter?" “I have not, Mr Hughson. For one thing, I don’t make a habit of changing my mind. Once it’s set—it stops sot. For another thing ” “Won’t you sit down, Peters?" Hughson interupted him. gesturing hospitably towards a chair near the table. Peters, however, shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d sooner stand," he said, and laughed!, “Hour upon hour of sitting in a pilot's seat make standing a pleasure.” “Well, well!" snapped the other impatienty, “I only want you to understand. Peters, that—we are talking this matter over in a perfectly friendly way.” “What matter. Mr Hughson?" asked Peters with a deliberate pose of innocence, and was quickly answered by the other. “Come, come, Peters. You know perfectly well what I mean. The little matter of the invention on which you have been working in your spare time, and my offer to enter into partnership with you over its —its development.” Peters eyed him with a grim amusement. The conceit and impudence of the man were so colossal that, to keep his temper. Peters simply had to regard him as something of a joke. The invention of which he had spoken, and indeed it was not entirely an invention as yet, though it was on the very threshold of belonging to that, category, was that of a contrivance which, if perfected and passing inevitable tests satisfactorily, would considerably revolutionise flying, especially in the matter of costs. Its development and success, therefore, should bring in to the inventor a considerable and perhaps a fortune in royalties. How Hughson had come to discover that. Peters was working in secret on this, the latter had not so far discovered. He had been chary of mentioning it. except to his two immediate friends, whom he has just left. They had been bound to secrecy, and Peters knew they would not willingly have disclosed that secret to anyone else. Yet. so Peters had known for weeks past, the facts had come to the knowledge of Hughson, who had instantly realised the potential value of the thing, desiring to have a share —and possibly a lion's share—in it. It seemed that Peters's blunt rejection of any such idea, given now many weeks ago. had not been finally accepted by the other. A knowing and supercilious smile curled his lips as he j looked up at Peters, who stood stiffly I before him. ' 'it's not a bit of good, young fellow. I beating about, the bush," he was say- ' ing. “That invention of yours ” (To be Continued.)