“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 14 December 1939, Page 12

“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

LESLIE BERESFORD.

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

CHAPTER IV. Continued. They were alive and noisy with those members of the Mayfair set. to whom money was of small account, and with whom night was of greater importance than the day. At the swimming-pool lithe white shapes of women were clad in gay swimming suits, flashing provocatviely in and out of the water like porpoises, or lounged with their companions on the cool white marble bankings. On the terraces, with their little tables, parties laughed and talked and sang, to the lilt of dance bands. It was all done so as to keep within the law, although there had lately been an outcry in the newspapers over the wild “bottle parties” known to take place in such establishments, and stories of high stakes lost over cards. Yet mere disclosure had in no way lessened the irresponsible gaiety of "The One-Eyed Moon,” and those whose cars were parked thickly in the big space reserved for them, a space which adjoined a landing ground for patrons with private planes. One of the last, a beautiful blonde, was the central figure of a mixed party_they in evening dress who sat on one of the terraces at a large glistening chromium and glass table. The blonde’s lovely face wore such a discontented expression that the man at her side rallied her on her mood. “What’s wrong with’you, Paula?” he asked laughingly. “You’re too crabbed for words lately.” “Crabbed?” She eyed him with distaste, unsmilingly, and shrugged. “Nothing so exciting as that!” she went on, in her coo] voice. “I just wish I could work myself into a good murderous rage over something, Terry. But everything's a flop—a silly, uninteresting flop.” “Says she, owning enough to buy half the world!” laughed somewhat enviously a little pale-faced girl, whose jet-black hair and eyes contrasted vividly with her white skin. “Exactly why, Constance!” the other restored, gazing languidly across at those darkling eyes, and that livid red mouth set in an oval of ivory. She knew that the girl hated her, and the reason lay with the man, whom next her blue eyes studied with a little glitter of amusement.

Like herself, he was fair, with crisply curling hair crowning a boyish face, which suggested no strength of character, yet was singularly attractive. He spoke now. “I say, Paula,” he said complainingly. "You’re a bit of a—what d’you call it? —yes, an enigma, you know. Always crying for the moon ” "And here we are in a one-eyed one.” interrupted the dark-haired girl, and leaned forward, a smile creasing her lips. "By the way, Paula,” she went on, “people are spying that you've a financial interest in this place. I heard it again at the Grand Seigneur last night. They said that you and Emil Lutter —well, that really he was just your manager here " "Did they. Constance?” The blonde laughed softly. It so happened that, just at this moment, the German manager himself, wellgroomed and polished in manner, appeared at the table. “Everything is all right Miss Accrington?” he asked in his gutttiral English, bowing and smiling. “No, it isn’t, Emil,” came the reply. “What do you think? Here’s Constance Willard telling me that the West End is full or rumours about me owning this place, or some such silly thing—" "Not silly, Miss Accrington!" _ The German intervened, with a sauve little bow, his hand over his heart, a smile on his lips. "No. not silly. But very regrettably untrue. I only wish it were a fact ” “Thanks, Emil, for quashing such a stupid rumour," interrupted in turn Paula Accrington, and turned to the dark-haired girl with an icy little laugh. “You near, Constance? Next time you feel like making mischief about me, you'd better thing twice.” “I —ma,king mischief about you Paula?” The other eyed her in seeming amazement, and began at once to protest: “I only repeated what other people had told me. Paula. I swear ’ "I say, Constance, do let’s keep the party clean!" came suddenly from the young man sitting next to Paiila. "Swearing's rotten bad form, and I hate women doing it anyhow.. Paula, let’s go dancing.” She hesitated for a moment, then rose to her feet and moved away from the table. As she did this, the German manager met her eyes for a moment. In spite of what he had just said, there was something in his expression which—if anyone at the table had noticed it—would have suggested knowledge of some understanding between them. The young man with Paula Accrington had. in fact, caught that exchange of understanding glances. One could see from his face that he did not like it. She and he had been dancing together only a few minutes to the thrumming of the band, in which a male crooner hummed the melody of the refrain, when he deliberately drew her from the crush to the comparative quiet of an alcove. “Listen here, Paula.’ he said impatiently, “I'm fed to the teeth with this, and it’s time you knew it." ••Boy ” she responded airily in a tired voice “you couldn't possibly be more fed than I am. Things are absolutely at a dead-end with me. If only I could get a good break " "Don't talk such utter drivel. Paula!" he interrupted her sharply, seizing her by her bare arms and shaking her in a sudden outburst of anger.

“A break?” he echoed in scorn. "What sort of a break? Why, you've got everything you could possibly want ” "Terry ” she interrupted him in turn in her cool, aloof voice “ it seemed to me that you were the person who started off with a grievance “Yes, and a good one," he said moodily. "I want to know this. Paula. Just what is there between you and that German fellow, Lutter?" "Between Emil and me?” She laughed, her brows arched in surprise. “What could there possibly be between a girl in my position, and a man in his —I ask you, Terry?” “Quite a good deal, Paula," he answered. his eyes studying her accusingly as he added: “Anyhow, from the look I caught him giving you as we were coming away just now-—” “Don't be such an absolute fool, Terry!” she stopped him impatiently, “what's the matter with you tonight? Have you had too much to drink—?” "If I’m drunk —it’s with love for you,” he retorted, and caught her by a wrist. “See here. Paula. I just can't go on like this. No man would stand for it. You're so beastly casual about everything. Of course, I can guess why. You’ve the Accrington millions behind you, while I’m just Terry Carlton, song-writer, 'who happened to have made a success.”

“Now you’re being vulgar as well as silly, Terry,” she said, and laid a hand on his arm. "What is ail this about?" she asked, her voice softening. “We’re being married in a fortnight, as everyone knows.” “That's just it,” he said. "It’s everyone's business more than our own. And I'm not so sure that I’m going on with it.” “What?” She stared at him in surprise. “Not sure that we’re being married?” “Not by a long way,” he retorted. “Matter of fact, the betting’s against it at the moment, so far as I’m concerned, Paula. I may be in love with you. I am—terribly, worse luck ” “Worse luck ?” she echoed questioningly, the colour hot in her cheeks, her eyes shining with anger and surprise. "That’s what I said, Paula, and I mean it,” he responded. “It's time we came to’ an understanding, I think. You can t be allowed to go on imagining that you and your money are everything, and every man’s going to fall for them. I’m not. You can take it from me. In particular, I’m 'not standing for whatever there may be between you and this German blighter of a manager ” "Darling Terry—!" Paula leaned towards him, her voice suddenly soft, caressing ripples of reassurance. ‘You surely don’t believe there is anything in that, my dear? Just because Constance Willard tried to make mischief —”

“Nothing of the sort!” he interrupted her. “Connie only repeated what she had heard, what everyone’s saying. I’m saying just what I believe to be the truth. I believe—l’m quite sure—there's something between you and that German. And I’m not talking about business, either. I don’t like the way he looks as you, or the way you look at him." “You don’t Terry?" Her voice was chill as ice now, and she shrugged. “No," he said. “And, unless you put him definitely out of the picture, Paula, there’ll be no wedding between you and me in a fortnight ” She interrupted him with cool, emotionless laughter. "Really, Terry, you’re too funny for words,” she said. "Be reasonable. There’s nothing between Emil Luttner and me. I’ve told you that already. Why can’t my word be good enough for you?" "It would be. Paula, darling, if only you were a little more human,” he answered emotionally, and gestured with impatience. “It’s that infernal money of yours," he said. “I believe, if it wasn’t for that, we’d be happy enough. Why can’t you give it away—?” "And live on your song-writing?" she mocked, laughing, and shook her golden curls. “Too much like backing an outside chance." "So that’s how you look on me?" He spoke slowly, after an interval of such silence as was permitted by the thrumming dance-band not far away. "It isn't good enough, Paula,” he said. "No, I’m beginning to see daylight. Connie Willard was right, and I’ve been a blind fool. She said you hadn’t an ounce of love in you. that you counted everything in pounds, shillings and pence, thought you could’ buy everything and everyone ” "So that’s it?" she interrupted, suddenly raging, and laughed. "Connies behind the whole thing, is she’.’ Well, I don’t mind, Terry. Go back to Connie. if you feel like it. I don’t care. Maybe it’s all for the best. ! was longing for something exciting to happen tonight. A broken engagement | seems quite a good start ” She stopped suddenly, her attention distracted by noises of violent protest, in the dance-room beyond the alcove. | One could just see from whore they sat something of the dance-floor. A portion of the orchestra. Some of the swirling dancers, who had suddenly ceased to swirl. Everything had come to a standstill. , Members of the orchestra, and such dancers as were within sight, were staring alarmedly at something hap-1 pening in a hidden distance. Paula I Accrington stepped out from the al- | cove, gazed for a moment, and then i turned to her companion. “Excitement has arrived, Terry!" she I said laughingly. [ (To be Continued.)