“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 27 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 X. After he had gone, she wondered why all this had happened after their meeting at the aerodrome tonight. She had never intended it. She had been all for firmly refusing the loan of his car, even before he had arrived. His arival had tuned he up to be even more flagrant over her refusal.

It had certainly never been in her thoughts to accept his apologies, still less to apologise herself, over their very first meeting. Yet, even against her will, she had found the words tripping over her lips. And then she had discovered herself accepting his sugarrival had tuned her up to be even actually asking him in and suggesting that he should come again.

She still had that inward feeling of antagonism towards the man, as if somehow he repelled her, though she could not say why, unless it was the result of their first clash still angering her. That would be silly, of course; Besides, old. Mr Wallingford had all along insisted that John Peters was one of the finest fellows he had ever met. And old Mr Wallingford, although sometimes stupidly t/iresome when trying to straighten out her affairs, lecturing her as if she were a child, could be depended on as to his judgment of men.

Paula had experienced that in several cases, proving that she would have been wisest to follow his advice. He had, especially, warned her all along about Emil Luttner, Paula was whitehot with fury ovei- her folly in regard to Emil. And now she knew him for what he was —just a mean crook.

Certainly, she could easily enough rid herself of him, she could see. Just a question of paying him, and the nasty little lawyer’s clerk man who was with him. Unfortuntely, that xVas just what old Mr Wallingford would not have her do. He advised dead against it.

Wallingford, however, would not be losing a fortune, as seemed to be her only alternative. Emil and the nasty little clerk overnight had made it a definite alternative. They had shown her such proofs of their case that she had no longer even the shadow of a doubt. A very old letter to a granduncle of hers from a woman in America about the secret marriage. Even more important and definite, a glimpse of the actual marriage certificate. How they had come by these things. Paula did not know, had indeed not asked. All they told her was that the cost had been heavy, especially in the matter of the marriage certificate.

How they had come by these things, Paula did not know, had indeed not asked. All they told her was that the cost had been heavy, especially in the matter of the marriage eetificate, which they had refused to let her handle, oi' even see too closely. “That, my lady,” Emil had said of the last, “means everything to you. Il means just as much, you understand, to the rightful claimant. We have only to- hand it to him. and out from here you go. It is the question ns to who pays. We are giving you first chance. Pay—and, immediately, in your presence. this piece. of paper shall be burnt. And then—no one can take your fortune from you.” He, and his horrible little accomplice, had given her over the weekend to reach a decision. So far. in face of this evidence which proved that they were not bluffing, she could see only one course open for her. Did she want to be stripped of her inheritance for the benefit of some person, even whose name she did not know—for they had declined to tell her that? She had. once er twice, considered the position of that unknown person. Strictly speaking, it was hardly just to him if she still held what was rightly his. On the other hand, from what these two had told her, tne person did not as yet know that any definite proof to his claim had been found. He could be bluffed over that, they had told her.

Between a natural desire to hold all that till now had been hers, and a certain quickening of conscience, Paula swayed first this way, and then that in her decision so far. Mostly, very reasonably, she swayed towards holding on to her own. Which was why as yet she had avoided telling Wallingford anything about her latest interview with these blackmailers.

change for slight services in connection with the running of the big household, she had always been frankly critical of Paula’s mode of life. "Really,” she said over dinner that night, “it’s an unspeakable relief to have the place so nice and quiet, Paula. I do hope you won’t be in any hurry to bring those young people back again. I must say I think you're far better without them. I blame them mostly for that road-house business —" “Don’t you think we'd better forget that Aunt Louie?” Paula suggested coldly. “I’ve heard quite enough about it already.” ‘l’m sure you have, my dear. I wouldn’t hurt you by mentioning it tonight. I’m glad it’s all over, and you do look like settling down a little. A girl blessed with fortune and a beautiful home, as you are, ought to be perfectly happy to enjoy them quietly.”

He would never have let her buy them out, as she must, unless she was prepared to lose everything. He would have them go to this unknown person, let the claim come into the courts, try to retain something for her out of the ruin. But Paula wanted no charity, nor was she willing to face poverty and social humiliation. So. for the moment, her mind was resolved to say nothing to Mr Wallingford, but settle this matter on her own account. Possibly that was mostly why she had allowed herself to be led into friendly relations wtih John Peters. It had distracted her mind from this dark problem a little, and did so even more after he had left her. All the next interminably long day. she found herself hoping that he would ! accept her invitation to come to “Sunnyside.” The one or two guests still there with her —actually three, in fact —were poor relatives of hers, a husband and wife and an elderly spinster, the last of whom had a more or less permanent home with her. They were a relief after the noisyset she had sent off. but they bored her with their small talk when evening came, the elder spinster especially. She was one of those people who arc steeped in family pride. While willingly enough accepting Paula hospitality, admittedly in ex-

Paula was accustomed to this sort o-f talk from the somewhat old-fashioned Aunt Louie. It had always rather amused her. Tonight, she felt a touch of irony about it. She wondered what Aunt Louie, and the other two. would say if they knew how little right she had to fortune and home, how they would like it, for themselves, if she were turned out of both. “You ought to know by this time, Aunt,” she said meanwhile, “that I’m not the settling-down variety. It isn’t in my blood ” “Oh. Ive always recognised that,” the other admitted. “You’ve unfortunately much the same temperament as that poor wild brother of yours, Geoffrey. Such a very nice boy, he might have been, if he had not mixed with bad companions and disgraced the family. “And what a family to disgrace!” Paula shrugged, laughing a little.cynically.- “They were no saints, from what I've ever heard. As for Geoffrey, he was a perfect dear, however he behaved. I don’t know that the truth about him ever came out, anyhow."

“It never will, of course. There’s no doubt the -poor boy died abroad, and perhaps it was for the best.” Paula rose rather abruptly from the table. She avoided offering any reply to that, for it could only have been an angry one. She was feeling curiously averse from anger just now, though she could not say why. Nor could she understand why her Aunt should so unexpectedly revive the long-forgotten topic of Geoffrey. His name had not been mentioned in the family since, years ago, he had disappeared into the unknown in a hurry. He had not been pressed to return. It was generally recognised that he would never do so, might as well be taken for dead.

Dead or alive, Paula had always been a secret and faithful believer in him as having been made a scapegoat. There had been many times when she had hoped he would return and clear himself. A vain hope, it seemed, and she had ended in realising that. But what she felt mostly tonight was the irony of the fact that, if he had not disappeared abroad, and been left out of their fathers will, he would have been in possession of the Acerington millions today. It would have been he. and not her. who would have had to settle with Emil Luttner and the other over the secret .marriage claim.

Paula, stepping out on to the terrace the stone of which was still wet from an earlier downpour, though that now had ceased, breathed in the freshness of the cool night air. It cleared her head a little, dispersed these troubled thoughts about Geoffrey and the Accrington millions, which last somehow she had begun furiously to hate, while still clinging to them.

Distantly, beyond the river, the lights of Lea House twinkled like tiny stars through the black curtain of the night. They made her think once again of John Peters, staying there with the Barings, She remembered how, when visiting old Mr Wallingford there that recent Sunday, she had noticed John Peters with Sir Oscar’s daughter. Pamela was very beautiful. Even women admitted it. To a man . , Paula suddenly heard footsteps approaching along the terrace, and she turned to look that way. Nobody was expected. The servants did not approach or leave the house by way of the terrace. The footsteps were firm, and those of a man. It came to Paula that perhaps—although she could not say for what reason—John Peters might have taken her at her word, and walked over from Lea House. Then, she decided, he would have motored. Besides, he had mentioned having friends of his there, whom he was anxious to rejoin. Also, there would be Pamela. Still, as the footsteps came nearer and nearer, Paula was almost ashamedly aware of a tremendous hope.

It was dashed Io the ground when the man suddenly emerged from the blackness into the glow from the open windows outside which she stood. He was not John Peters, anyhow. He was dressed, too, quite shabbily. And his pale, almost ghastly face, which the lights picked out suddenly, brought a sudden cry from Paula’s lips. A cry. in which amazement and doubt gave way suddenly to one of certainty.

“Why — Geoffrey — Geoffrey!" she called, warm and welcoming, and added: “It really is you—alive, after all?"

The fact (hat her brother had so recently been discussed, and in her own mind, made Paula wonder if she really was dreaming, and this man on the terrace could actually be Geoffrey in the flesh. But his well-remembered voice, answered her in the next instant. proved to her that, by some queer trick of Fate, it actually was so. “The prodigal lias returned, sister," he said, adding a trifle doubtfully:

“But he scarcely expects any fatted calf, of course.” There was a rather pathetic quaver in a voice which sounded weak and a little hoarse. Paula went quickly to him, knowing now there was no mistake, flung her arms round his neck, and kissed him emotionally. “Fatted calves don’t happen these days, Geoff, dear,” she said, half-laugh-ing and half-crying in her excitement, as she studied him in the lights, aware gradually that shabbiness of clothes and signs of change which rather frightened her. “All the same, Geoff,” she said under her breath, “you do look as if one would do you the world of good. You poor boy—what have you been doing to yourself?” Then, realising that this was not the moment to ask for reasons, but immediately to set about putting right what was so obviously wrong, she seized him by a hand, drawing him within the lighted room. “Wait here, darling,” she said imperiously. “I’m going to see about a meal and room for you at once. I'll not be a minute."

In her absence, sunk into a chair, he looked about him, a certain hungry relief lighting up his face. A very good-looking face, though lined so much as to suggest a greater age than the features indicated. A face which attracted, and yet curiously repelled. The glittering eyes, their gaze wandering over surrounding luxuries, had a hard, even a cunning expression. They softened, however, as Paula returned. She came towards him, sat down near him. “It's very queer," she said. "We were talking about you a little more than half an hour ago. You remember Aunt Louie? Well, she’s here. Also Charles Accrington and his wife. Nobody else, which is just as well ” ‘That’s true enough,” he laughed a little sardoncially, with a rueful gesture of thin hands over his shabby and rain-drenched person. “I’m not fit to be seen by strangers. The family wouldn’t matter so much, though—honestly, Paula, I’d prefer to look more like the son of the house. It just couldn’t be done. Matter of fact, I’d two thoughts about showing up here at all." “Darling. I'd never have forgiven you, if you hadn't. and I’d ever come to know it. Better home as you are than hiding away as you’ve done all these years." “Not—hiding, Paula," he said. “No. Just stopping away from a family that didn’t want ever to hear of me again. Trying to do well, sister, all these years. Sometimes pulling it off—yes. And then, always, that old rotten bad luck of mine would turn up. I—"Well, you can tell me all that afterwards. Geoff. You're here, and here you stay. It should have been your home all this time, and 1 feel pretty rotten over father cutting you out in mv favour "

“Oh, dont worry about that!" he interrupted her, laughing. "I read in some papers how the Old Man died, and you came into everything I never fretted over that a bit. Good for you. I though at the time. Ido still. I haven’t come here, Paula, to rate you over what wasn't you)' fault. I haven't come to fasten myself on to you, either."

“Don't be silly. Geoff. You must know you're welcome to all 1 can give you."

He spoke gratefully about that, said that frankly he hadn't expected so decent a welcome from her. He was just as frank that he was in a bad way. Given a ghost of a chance, he would pull up again, and not worry her. (To he Continued.)