"FREEDOM FOR TWO"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 7 May 1940, Page 10

"FREEDOM FOR TWO"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

MARGARET WATSON.

CHAPTER X. She awoke in the late morning, for the moment unconscious of any disturbance of her mental peace. She even uttered sleepily to Martin’s empty bed that it was a lovely morning. Then she remembered, and it was no longer lovely; but more by reason of Martin’s absence than because any slur had been cast on him. She knew, with the calm confidence of daylight, that Jon had told a pack of lies to bewilder her. She knew that Martin was perfect; that everything he did was right. She sang as she dressed, so that a few people passing in the street below her open window glanced up as they walked.

“I hope Martin comes back today." she told her mirror, combing her brown hair before it. It had grown rather long; she thought she woidd oc- ’ cupy the morning with a trim and a j shampoo. j The hairdresser offered her a morn- , ing paper to read while her hair was being cut. “It’s useless to me." said Erica, smilf ing. “1 have the English papers, too." ; "No thanks. You tell me the local : news, instead." The girl told. Madame was the Madame who sang, was she not? There had been a performance at the opera on which the critics were lyrical. No doubt the English critics were also lyrical when Madame sang. And even she, who knew very little about music, had thought how beautiful it was when Madame sang in her room. There was a big headline in this morning's paper. There had been a robbery, here in Stockholm, and the thief had got away with jewels worth thousands and thousands of kronen. It happened on one of the islands beyond

the harbour; and the robbers had got away in a fast motor boat, although the police had been watching. And one of the policeman in the pursuing boat had been shot and wounded, and the boat put out of action. She thought it must have been thrilling. Of course, she expected, the jewels had been heavily insured; but they were very old. and very famous, and she did not suppose the money would console Madame Bjornson and her daughters. It was a shame, was it not. that the property of private individuals should not be better protected? Everyone was talking about it. Erica sat quite still. It had all come back, the horror, the fear, in redoubled measure; for now the doubt, all in a moment, looked like certainty. She was astonished at the calm of her own voice as it asked:

“When did this happen? Tell me all it says.” “Soon after midnight last night. It says that the police had wind of a plan to break into the house, and were watching for the thieves all along one shore of the island, where they had agreed to land. But they think the gang must have been warned that they were expeced, for they approached from the other shore. Imagine, it is almost a cliff! You would say impossible to land there, but they did it. One man climbed, it says, but they do not know how no effected entrance to the house. He must have been very, very daring and clever. The police knew nothing until they saw the boat withdrawing. They gave chase, and then the bandits —imagine it! — opened fire on them, and put their engine out of action, and wounded one policeman. Is it not a terrible thing that villains should be allowed to shoot people, and steal from them, like that?"

Erica was silent. It was all too terrible to be true, and yet there were the facts of it in black and white, for everyone to read. Martin stole jewels worth thousands and thousands of | kronen from the summer residence of Mr Bjornson. Martin shot at and wounded a policeman. The analogy was far too perfect now to admit of any mistake, or to be explained away by any theory of coincidence. The messenger who spoke secrets in German, the grqat white house on the distant islet, Martin's eyes seeking it cut speculatively, contentedly, excitedly, from the tower of St Nicholas, his change of plans, his story' of sudden urgent business on Nordholm, his mention of the Bjornsons and their wealth, his refusal to confide in her, every detail fitted into place like a piece of jigsaw puzzle. Of course, he could not tell her, trust her as deeply as he might. It had been the gang's secret. And why, unless ho was prime mover in the affair, had it been necessary to summon him at all? She could guess, now, what that message in German had been. “We have the boat ready and the time-table worked out according to your orders; but we think there's been a leakage. What shall we do?" And the reply: "I’ll come myself. If the whole of the secret police are camped round Nordholm, we’re striking tonight.’’ She said in a voice whose detached calm she could still admire: "I don't think I'll have the shampoo, after all. I’ve just remembered an appointment I

must keep. She rushed back to her room. It was true that she had remembered something. but it was not an appointment; it was a folded news-sheet, still crammed into the big handbag which had honeymooned with her in Dalgano. Kneeling upon the rug, she pulled it out with tremulous fingers, and spread it before her. Something round and shining slipped unnoticed from the folds, and fell silently upon the thick I rug. I There it was, the confirmation of her certainty; the account of a jewel rob-

bc-ry which had taken place in Dalgano on the night when she had supposed Martin to be away upon Koranto.

How well she remembered, now, what she had said to him then in jest: "Just fancy, Martin! While I was sleeping, and you were sticking to the side of Koranto like a fly, some industrious person was breaking and entering, and getting away with a haul worth no end of money."

And Martin had replied—-how significantly she saw now for the first time: “Serve them right! Good luck to the enterprising Raffles, say I."

Erica felt suddenly feeble, and rathi er sick; conscious, too, that this was ' the first real crisis of her life, and that I if she could face up to it she had not | altogether failed herself. What were I the mere thrills of a risky ski-run. ■ what were the tenuous moments of ; fear in snow-storms on Koranto, com- ' pared with this deep and unexpected ! problem? I She went to the telephone, and rang 'up Jon. Her hands were quite steady; so was the voice in which she asked: “May I speak to Mr Bernstorn. please?" The cool voice of the girl Dagmar began to say: “I'm afraid that's impospossible; he ." Then there was a second of silence; and after it, the voice of Jon himself, pitched rather lower than usual: “Is that you, Erica? I've been out — just got back this moment. Yes. Yes, I heard. Yes, I've seen the papers,” She asked slowly: "What am I to do?”

"Nothing—until I come. Stay in your room; Im coming to you now, at once. And don't worry, too much; because whatever happens, I'll see to it that you're all right.” She said, with sudden urgency: “It's not for myself I'm worried." “I know that. But we must see what can be done. Martin will be all right for a short time, at any rate.” “A matter of hours, I suppose?” A pause; then reluctantly: “I’m afraid so. But —we can’t talk like this. I'll come over straight away.” When he came there was no hint in him of the monster she had glimpsed on the previous night. He was grave and pale, as if he himself had been through some dreadful strain; and his eyes, though worried, had the calm which she had always associated with them, a sort of northern fatalism. He came straight to her, and took her hands.

“Poor Erica! I know how you feel. I know how I feel myself. I never thought I should be proved right so soon; and I wish you could still think me a liar, but I know you can't. I'm so dreadfully sorry.” Erica said calmly, withdrawing her hands: “There’s no need to be sympathetic. No, I mean it, Jon. I’m not going to be hysterical, and I haven't any comment to make. I simply want to know what to do. Martin won't come back here, surely, will he? It won't be safe. How can I get into communication with him?” ■“I might manage it for you. But, Erica, dear, listen to me. You must get out of this place. You must get away while you’re still unsuspected. Even Martin wouldn't want his wife mixed up ip the business; and there is some danger to you. He knows and is known by so many people, and there will surely be some who can connect you with him. 'lt’s the only thing to do. Settle up here and get out, now.

this minute.” "But where to?" asked Erica helplessly. “To my house. Where else? It's on one of the smallest islands, well out into the Baltic; from there we can easily get you away by ship. I've a fast motorboat; and Martin knows all the skippers along the coast ” “But we don’t know where he is!” she cried, with the first real excitement and distress she had shown. “Can’t you tell me where I may find

him?—where he’s likely to go?” “Yes, I could, but there’s no time. Don’t you see that, Erica?—not time at all." Her face set; she dropped her hands into the cushions, and clenched them there. "[ won't go without him.” “No matter what he’s done?” “No matter what he's done.” Jon laughed, a quiet, controlled, unexpected sound. “I love you for that. But I wasn’t really suggesting that either of us should leave him in the lurch. I want to know that you’re safe first, and then I'll come back and scour Stockholm for Martin, and bring him oil' to you safely, if it takes me a week." "That’s great of you!" site cried, her eyes lighting. “But I'd rather help to find him, if I can." “Perhaps, but—you'd be more of a danger to him than a help, dear. One can work better than two where secrecy is wanted; and it is wanted, most desperately. If Martin is taken ’ “I suppose he'd go to prison, wouldnt he.’ For a long time; maybe for years." Jon stood back frm her, and watched with a detached interest every movement of her face. She was standing up to it well; better, in fact, than he had expected. There was steel in Erica, alter all. He said in a low voice: “1 m afraid you don't know the worstof it. It's even more terrible than—l than prison." She raised her head sharply, and stared at him for a long moment without moving or making a sound. Then she asked breathlessly: “Jon, what dot you mean” How can it be worse?" [ (To be Continued).