“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 28 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. Continuec. And just then, as she was insisting again that he must not think of the future yet, but be prepared to stay where he was, the door opened and Aunt Louie appeared. “So you’ve come back, Geoffrey!" she remarked in her rather acid voice, which she tried to soften as she added: “We had quite given you up for dead. One must be glad that we were mistaken. And now —a meal is waiting for you in the small dining-room. You look as if you need it, my boy.”

His eves shone as he followed the lead of Aunt Louie and Paula. He had indeed been very doubtful of his naturally, he had denied such a posspossible welcome here. Although, ibility, he had all along been sore when he heard that Paula had inherited. He had, in fact, taken counsel's advice once, as to his chance of fighting the will. But, having been assured that he would only be wasting good money with no earthly chance of succeeding. he had accepted the inevitable.

Now, after a longish period of poverty and squalor, having decided to test the chance of appealing to Paula’s generosity as a sister, he found himself in the lap of luxury at last, and even expected to remain there. That, as he wolfed good food for the first time for months, made him inclined to laugh at Aunt Louie’s cynical comments over his very obvious lack of success in life.

“Really. Aunt Louie, I don’t know why you must talk about what is not really poor Geoffrey’s fault!" Paula sided with him, irritated at last at the conversation, and immediately shifted the trend of this out of the past into the future. “I think I’ve every reason to be glad you’ve come home, Geoff,” she told him. “Of course old Mr Wallingford manages all the business of the estate for me, or at least he has managed it. It’s more than I have the knowledge or patience to do, anyhow. There’s no end you can do to help.”

And when she said that, she was thinking of one matter which was tremendously affected by Geoffrey’s return especially in such an impoverished state and depending so much upon her. Now, less than ever, could she allow the Accrington millions to go to their rightful owner, whatever her conscience might feel about it. After all, she told herself, it would have been his money, had he not been cut out from the will. He had as much right as she, if not more, to decide what was to be done over that secret marriage and the demands of those two men. She felt an immense relief that now, at least, she could share that responsibility with someone, and was eager for an opportunity to discuss the whole problem with Geoffrey. But, while she was seeking to make an opportunity after her brother had eaten, Mr Wallingford was announced.

The lawyer was the very last person she wanted to see at this moment, but she greeted him pleasantly, drawing his attention to Geoffrey. “See what’s blown in from the great open spaces, Mr Wallingford,” she said gaily. “Geoffrey’s a bit the worse for wear, but it’s everything io have him back!” The lawyer nodded unemotionally, and held out a hand to the prodigal. “I’m relieved to see you back,” he said professionally. "You’ve been knocking around the world long enough now to know more than you did when you went away. . Tell me a little of what’s happened to you, will you?” From what lie said briefly, Geoffrey had certainly knocked around the world, a life of ceaseless movement, of ups and downs, good luck and hard, mostly hard. “And all because I was supposed to have done something for which I was never responsible, though nobody would have believed me,” he ended bitterly. "Well, 1 can no more prove my innocence today than then. And — I’ve never made good ” “But, you haven’t to worry about that now, Geofl’,” Paula flung an arm round him. “You’re going to help Mr Wallingford and me with the estate. It should rightly have been yours, and so far as I’m concerned you’ll share it with me——”

At which moment she caught something in Mr Wallingford’s eyes which made her hesitate. For the moment, in her enthusiasm, she had forgotten the threat lurking in the background. "You won't have had time yet, my dear, to tell your brother about the little difficulty which has arisen about the estate?" she heard him asking, as though voicing her thoughts. "No." She was annoyed that the matter had come up in this way, with Mr Wallingford interfering. Still, after he had gone, she would talk to Geoffrey, and they would act together as they pleasea. “He’s only been here a little over an hour,” she said. "I meant to tell him later, of course " “Why. what’s the difficulty- ?" Geoffrey, suddenly anxious, stared at Paula. ‘There’s nothing much to it. Geoff," she told him. “.Just a little matter that Mr Wallingford thinks can be settled without any trouble ” “That’s unfortunately, my dear, altogether out of the question now.’’ the lawyer intervened in his quiet voice. “There have been deveopments—l’m afraid, serious developments " 1 “Why, what’s happened then?" Paula' asked, surprised by the seriousness of' his voice.

Her mind worked quickly, with intuition. There was, as yet anyhow, no need to tell old Mr Wallingford what she guessed. This newspaper story did not necessarily mean that the stolen document could be traced to Emil. He was too clever for that, Paula felt. She began to see, if she was right in all this, that the newspaper-story gave her an advantage over Emil Luttner and his companion. Geoffrey meantime had been demanding from Wallingford what all this fuss was about. And while Paula, still studying the newspaper, was thinking out her course of action, she heard the lawyer’s voice outlining to Geoffrey the whole story. Geoffrey at once put his finger on the most important point. "So —if these people went so far as to cut that entry out from that church register—there must be some basis of truth in that secret marriage," he said. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble —let alone having incurred risk of imprisonment. Once that stolen proof was in their hands, they could demand what they liked from Paula." “I’m afraid you’re right, Accrington, as to the first part of your remark,” agreed Wallingford. “And I must admit now that I have for years been very much afraid that a secret marriage existed. I heard it verbally from my father, who himself had it verbally from your grand-uncle,. Clive Accrington, only a few days before his accidental death.”

"He did. in fact, promise to provide my father with documentary proof of the fact,” he pursued, “but death intervened. "My father, I feel, should have probed the matter further, but I fear that ho did not investigate. Why, I don’t know. He was a man with an immense practice, and probably one thing and another prevented him from attending to the matter until too late. So —the estate came to your branch of the family, and eventually to you." "Anyhow," Geoffrey intervened, "who is this supposed rightful claimant?"

“That’s a question 1 asked Emil," Paula volunteered, "and he wouldn't tell me. except that he was here in England. Wallingford rose to his feet. “Well. I thought I'd better let you know, at once, about this fresh development," he said to Paula. “It certainly looks as if those two men are behind il, without question. You haven't by the way. seen them lately?" "I—?" Paula's eyes were very innocent. "Are they still in the neighbourhood?" she asked. She knew, in fact, that they were not. Emil had told her where they would both be over the weekend. Her artless question, however, seemed to satisfy Wallingford, but she was in turn anxious to be satisfied too. "What are you going to do about—this newspaper story"" she asked.

CHAPTER XI. "You won't have seen the evening papers yet. of course," Wallingford said. “I brought one down with me, and that’s why I looked in, my dear, at this rather late hour. They contain a startling piece of information, which 1 can't altogether understand, although it rather looks to me as if those two villains have been getting busy to make sure of their game succeeding.” “Who are they?" Geoffrey Accrington intervened, in a puzzled way, anger in his eyes. “Why, what’s this all about, Paula?” Paula did not answer him. She was taken aback and alarmed. Things were not going as she had expected. She held out a hand for the newspaper which old Mr Wallingford had produced. "Let me see what it is all about, please," she urged. He handed her the paper, a forefinger pointing out some headings and letter press at the head of one column: AMAZING THEFT FROM COUNTRY CHURCH. ENTRY CUT FROM OLD MARRIAGE REGISTER. SAID TO AFFECT OWNERSHIP OF FAMOUS FORTUNES.’ Beneath this, in the letterpress, Paula read, as from the paper's local correspondent, as follows: "The small village of Barnsley-on-the-Moor, in a little-visited corner of Devon, is buzzing with rumours of a mysterious nature. I have investigated these, with tne effect that I am able to state in the authority of the vicar of St. Jude’s, the picturesque and aged village church, that a certain amount of truth lies behind them.

The vicar, when I appoached him. was very reticent. He was rather annoyed and puzzled as to how the rumours had spread. He was willing to admit, however, that an entry of a marriage, which look place many years ago, had indeed been found missing, having been neatly cut away by a sharp pen-knife. He refused to explain how this had happened, or when, or how it had been discovered. He said that the whole facts had already been reported to the proper ecclesiastical quarters, and he was awaiting developments.

When asked if rumour was correct as to the entry concerning a secret marriage, involving ownership of the Accrington millions, he refused to make any statement.” Then followed a brief paragraph reminding the public of the facts about the Accrington fortune. Paula read this with perturbation and dismay. She felt a sudden sense of guilt. In a flash, she realised at once that this missing entry must have been the old, time-worn marriage certificate which she had last seen in the hand of Emil Luttner, the one for which he was demanding payment. If so, it had been stolen from a church.

‘Get in touch with that parson,” he answered. “I must try to find out, on your behalf, the precise facts behind it. Leave it to me. my dear, and don’t worry. Now that this unfortunate business has come out into the open, it may perhaps be the better for us.” He was gone, a few minutes later, Paula seeing him to the front door. When she came back to Geoffrey, and had closed the door, he said: “Here’s a fine homecoming, I must say. If all this is true, it looks as though the Accrington millions are pretty rocky, so far as you and I are concerned, Sis.” “Not if we keep our heads Geoff.” she retorted, and sank into a chair. “Listen. You've come home, and now this is as much io do with you as with me. We both of us need one estate—" “I should just say we do. If it's only possible " “It might be. But. not if Mr Wallingford has the handling of this business. You know what he is—straight as a die. Well, that way, we’d probably say good-bye to all we’ve got.” “As if we’d stand for that? If there’s any other way out ” “Listen." she said. Very briefly, in low and quick tones she confided to him the whole situation, which Wallingford did not at present know. She explained how she knew for certain, what otherwise still had to be proved, that Emil Luttner and his companion had that stolen marriage-entry in their possession. Now. therefore, this publicity was fortunate. since—in fear of the law- —they would gladly accept easier terms, so as to have that stolen document safely destroyed. "Wove got them right in our hands." Geoffrey agreed, his eyes lighting with eagerness. "Because, of course, they simply dare not go now to the claimant, whoever he may be, for - then they’d have to produce that, stolen document and be for the high-jump. Why. it’s a walkover for us— —" “Except that, if we do that, it means we’re as crooked as they are —" Paula reminded both herself and him. because somehow her conscience refused to be drugged into complete indifference even now. (To be Continued )