"FREEDOM FOR TWO"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 3 May 1940, Page 10

"FREEDOM FOR TWO"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

MARGARET WATSON.

CHAPTER VIII. (Continued). At dinner in their hotel on that first evening it was the same. No less than three guests rose from their tables to cross over for a few minutes with Martin. It was more than annoying, when Erica was trying so hard to recapture her old enthusiasm for change, and establish the former contact she had felt with her husband, to have these keen, active experienced men come dashing in with their reminiscences and strike sparks from Martin at the first word. “I haven’t seen you since we were at ’’ “Do you remember the time when 9” “Have you seen so-and-so lately?" “How long ago was that fire we had on board the ?” What had she to offer in comparison? Nothing. Nothing at all. She should have seen that from the first. And how could she ever have any part in these excitements which had begun so long ago? And what part, then, had she really got in Martin, who had done all these things, .had loved and been shared by all these people, before ever she set eyes on him? When they had a breathing-space to themselves she asked: "Is there a town in the world where you've never been? Just one little town where nobody’s ever heard of you?” Martin thought she was joking, and answered with mock gravity, and after much thought: "Yes. There’s Vladivostok.” "Let’s go there."

He began to say merrily: “It does get rather overwhelming, doesn’t it?" Then he stopped, and looked at her more keenly; he saw that she was pale, that the delicate lines of her mouth were drawn tight and. straight in her face. He leaned forward across the table in concern. “Dear, I'm so sorry You’re tired —the journey ” “I’m not tired of anything except your popularity. Don’t any of your acquaintances know when they’re not wanted?”

Martin stared at her, and his face flamed. “They are wanted. 1 want them. Don’t you realise that all these people are my friends, and that 1 haven’t seen them for a number of years—most of them, anyhow. Surely they've a right to a few minutes of our time!"

“Oh certainly! To the whole of it. I should' say. Twenty-four hours in the day! There seems nothing else.”

She knew she was being stupid, but she could not restrain the bitterness of her mood any longer. Martin was growing angry, and no wonder, but he had more control of himself than she had.

“You’re being unreasonable, dear,” he said quietly. “We’ve been here only one full day; and really, I don’t see that you can blame me for knowing so many people; or for valuing them, either.’’ “Very well!” said Erica with a shrug. “I’ll leave you to have a talk with them. Don’t trouble about me, I can amuse myself.” She made as if to rise from her seat and leave him. She believed he would be glad if she did, but at least he was not prepared to see her go in that way He put his hand hurriedly upon her arm.

“Look here Erica, I’m sorry! Honestly, abjectly sorry! I'm forgetting that you’ve just had a long journey, and a tiring day on top of it. Of course you don’t want to have to be sociable. Now do sit down and be your patient self, and after dinner we’ll go out and take ship together, and sail up and down the streets of Stockholm, whore no one can find us!”

“There’ll be someone, even there,” she said, with a wry smile; but she sat down. “I expect the boatman will be one of your old shipmates. Or else one of the passengers will turn out to be the man who went with you to Lhasa, taking a European holiday, for a change. “Then I’ll swear I’.m someone else, if that will please you, darling. I’ll take a false name.”

She laughed, and was lost, and at that moment, happening to glance up towards the doorway, she saw Jon Bernstorn come in, following a tall girl in a swathed golden dress, whose walk was the progress of Diana. Behind”her Jon's blonde head was reared like a flaxen torch. Erica had not realised that he was so tall. He glanced carelessly round him as he threaded his way into the room, and saw them. His face lit, and in an instant he was bearing down upon them. "Here conies the Lion of the North." said Martin, in some relief: for Jon at least was a mutual friend, and could not alienate Erica further. Erica waited for the familiar cry of "Martin!” but it did not come. “Erica! What a delightful surprise!"

He did not know —he could not know, she thought —what he had done for her then. It was more, much more, than a mere reminder of a walk under starlight, up from the ice-rink at Dalgano to her hotel, a walk in which he had shown a sympathy, a delicate understanding which Martin certainly had not matched: it was, over and above that, a proof that she was capable of making the same permanent contacts as Martin made, of touching other human minefcs with an impression which was indelible for ever after. It was balm to her self love.

"Why, hullo. Jon. We wondered if we should see you."

"I should have been dreadfully insulted if you'd neglected me altogether. How long have you been here?” Martin said, rather coolly: "Arrived

late last night, as a matter of fact. Jon held Erica's hand for perhaps a second longer than he need have done; but the touch was faultless, cool and firm without the least suggestion of the personal.

“You look marvellous, Mrs Hirst." “I should. I took a great deal of trouble over it.” But Martin had not told her so.

“Still honeymooning.” “Good gracious, no. We’re here on business; at least, Martin is; I’m here to see all that’s to be seen.”

The golden dress loomed like an earthly sun behind him; the girl nad approached very slowly and softly, and was standing at his elbow, looking without any expression at Erica. "This is my sister Dagmar. You’ve heard me talk of the Hirsts very often, haven’t you, Dagmar?” “How do you do?” The tall girl had cold eyes, keenly pale blue as Baltic ice, and very long and narrow hands like spars of the same cold and comfortless material. Her arms tapered from the elbows with an unusual suddenness which was graceful but strange. She was handsome in a style to freeze the blood. Not at all, thought Erica, like her brother, except in colouring. perhaps. "Are you liking Stockholm?" asked Jon. “I’ve seen so little of it yet; but, yes, I like it. It’s very beautiful." “Martin will be busy most of the day, I suppose. That’s rather hal'd on you, because there’s so much to see. Perhaps, now and again, Dagmar and I might be allowed ? We shouldn't like you to miss anything, or to see the best part of the town alone. It isn’t the same at all. We should like to make sure that Stockholm does herself justice in your eyes.” “I hope to get a little time with my wife occasionally,” said Martin, with a smile which was not quite as disarming as it might have been. “Of course! But if ever you're lonely. Erica, promise to call us to the rescue." “I promise," she said readily, and the two handsome Scandinavians moved on to their table. It struck her then, with a shock which was not entirely pleasant, and yet had a sort of jealous pleasure in it, that she, and she alone, had been the pivot of that brief reunion, for as far as Jon had been concerned. Martin might not have been there. CHAPTER IX. For the next few days she saw very little of Martin. Most of his time was occupied in business, the bulk of it spent hi the office in Staden of Jameson's associate Sivertscn, much more in visits which seemed to Erica to keep continually dashing from one Baltic island to another.

He felt, during those days, an almost unendurable longing to dash away for good, to board one of the quayside ships and carry Erica away with him. It was impossible, of course, her very existence made it impossible; but this grudging taste of freedom roused the craving in double measure. It was like a drug; the more a fool took, the more he wanted. After all, he consoled himself, he had Erica, who was worth more than the lost world.

In the evenings, they snatched a few hours together, but these were often interrupted by other people. Sometimes. when they went out into the city, they would find themselves joinby one or two old friends eager to show them points of interest, and even more eager to talk over past times. Sometimes, if they shut themselves into their rooms at the hotel, one person after another would call, until their tete-a-tete had become a party.

Martin did not mind these interruptions for himself; butJSrica hated them. It seemed to her that she was the one person who had no right to be there. A wall of human beings hedged him off from her. Outside that wall she could sit as long as she liked; but she could never join him inside it. she was becoming increasingly sure of that.

They were exploring the narrow streets of Staden one day, when a man in dark clothes of inconspicuous cut met them at a corner, and after a quick glance at Erica, began to talk to Martin in German.

Erica walked on slowly for perhaps twenty yards, and left them to talk, since it was plain that she was not wanted. She was becoming almost inured to not being wanted. But she did look back, with much interest, and saw them talking together—how should she describe the impression they gave her —secretively and excitedly. She examined the stranger carefully, and did not care very much for his appearance. He was not like any of Martin's avowed friends.'

Nothing about him gave any clue to his occupation: in fact, now that she had thought of it in those terms, nothing about him would be noticed in passing, from the dark grey Homburg on his head to the insignficant black shoes on his feet. He might have been anything; and his shadow coming out of the by-street across their path had been the one thing about him of any definite character; a stealthy shadow, and sinister. Martin came after her at a run. “Sorry, darling! What were we saying before he butted in?" (To be Continued).