OUTPOST IN CHINA

Wairarapa Times-Age, 27 June 1940, Page 10

OUTPOST IN CHINA

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

VAL GIELGUD.

Author of “Africa Flight” and Part Author of “Death at Broadcasting House.”

CHAPTER X. (Continued.) “I don’t thing it would be fair to ask it of any woman —. I’ve been happy here —but what the deuce is there for a woman to do?” Sheila turned and faced him squarely. “I'd hoped." she said, “that you might be able to tell me that!”

There was an awkward uncomfortable silence. Leslie broke it. “I’m sorry, Sheila. I was forgetting about you for the moment—you made me talk about myself. You know I think you were splendid to come up here with Gerald. But there couldn’t be two of that kind!”

“Splendid! Please don’t be funny!’ “Well,” said Leslie awkwardly, “plucky at least.” Sheila's reply was a queer, mocking laugh. "Sheila!”

“My dear Leslie, I came to China because 1 was romantic and just married—‘the gorgeous East in fee,’ and all that tosh! I came up to Tan Fu because I had no idea what it was like, and because Gerald carefully told me nothing about it. The only pluck I have is the pluck to admit that I’m sc bored and so lonely and so uncomfortable, that I'm as near desperate as doesn't matter!”

She felt her voice quavering uncontrollably and stopped. “You can't mean all that," said Leslie Dale.

She laughed, and the sound was not a pretty one. “Can’t I? Love's the deadliest thing! It sends you mad, ties you up. lands you in Tan Fu. Surbiton, or Jericho—and then one morning you wake up sane, and realise where you are and what you’ve done! But then you're lucky. You don't bother with love. You're thinking I’m just being hysterical—and rather caddish —”

Almost unconsciously Dale had moved nearer to her.

“How can I discuss it with you?” she protested weakly. “But you're going away, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. I must talk to someone! It’s not Gerry's fault. He was all right in England. He's got charm and intelligence, and all that sort of thing, but out here he’s so-so thin! Can you understand what I mean? He’s not adequate. I’m sorry for him. I've almost begun to despise him—no love can stand that, you know.” So much Leslie Dale, with all his ignorance of women, did know. But he had to know something more . . . . “And Gerald?” he persisted. Sheila was too carried away by the indulgence of self-pity too long repressed to notice the urgency in the voice that questioned her.

“Oh, it’s quite all right,” she said wearily. “I nag at him. and I’m not helpful—but I simply loathe tepid water, and dreary food, and no society, and nothing nothing nothing to do all day long!" Leslie just stared at her. “Life's stupid, isn’t it?” she continued. “You want to stay, and I want to go away. So you have to go. and I have to stay! You might write to me now and then. I shall watch for the mails as I used to lie awake for Father Christmas!”

Leslie did not answer that. An odd mixture of anger and pity was welling up in his heart. But stronger than either was a grim and typical determination.

“I wish I could do something,” he said in a low voice.

“You’ve done a great deal,” said Sheila. “You’ve shown me what it means to live up against things—in the open air. I'd only met men before who lived in offices—or hot-houses. Yes, I’m going to miss you. Leslie." "And I'm going to miss you." Sheila threw up her head and laughed. "Thanks for classing me with the othei- attractions of Tan Fu!”

The man thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches.

“I've taken rather too long to say goodbye to you,” he said awkwardly.

“I see.” Scorn blazed into Sheila Havelock’s eyes. "That’s all you've got to say. I'm afraid I don’t find it very adequate!"

"Perhaps inadequate, perhaps just old-fashioned.”

The girl's lips twitched. She had gone very white but she still kept her head well up and faced him steadily.

"Goodbye for ever. Leslie.” she said, and held out her hand. He tried not to notice that it shook uncontrollably as she did so.

They were still standing close together when they heard quick footsteps on the verandah and turned towards the window. It was Gerald. He strode in, looking hot and angry. “Gerry!” exclaimed Sheila, "what is it?”

Gerald did not answer. He walked !o the desk, and flung down the crumpled paper and the dagger which had pinned it to the blotting-pad in the Tan Fu office.

"What does it mean Dale?" he demanded.

Sheila looked from her husband to Dale, and there was fear in her eyes. And Leslie Dale laughed. CHAPTER XI

“This doesn't strike me as particularly funny," said Gerald savagely. ■'lt was pinned to the desk in the officeinfernal impudence! What does it mean. Dale?"

Leslie Dale picked up the crumpled paper and looked at it, a queer expression on his lean face.

“ ‘With the compliments of General Wu Tso Ling. One thousand dollars, if you please—on account.' I see. Wu must have heard that my going was definite.

Gerald bit his lip. "I couldn’t get a word of sense out of the clerks about the fellow who brought it." he muttered. "They all scorned seared to death."

They would be. I thiol; I told von

once that Wu has a sense of humour." "Yours,” sneered Gerald, “must be peculiar, if you share it! Well, what ought 1 to do?” Leslie put the paper down again on the table, and turned back to face Gerald.

“I seem to remember, Havelock, that you're now agent in charge of Tan Fu." he said coldly. "It looks as if Wu proposes to call upon you formally, so you’ll have plenty of time to make up your mind.” For a moment Sheila thought that her husband was about to lose all selfcontrol. He had gone very pale, and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. What would she do, she wondered absurdly, if Leslie and Gerald came to a puerile bout, of fisticuffs? Which would she choose to back? She just managed to prevent herself from laughing hysterically. And then, with a certain unwilling admiration she realised that Gerald had got himself in hand again. He took out his cigarette-case chose a cigarette with elaborate care, and then held out the case to Dale with a murmured apology. "I ran across the—skipper in the town,” he said, deliberately casual. “He's got loaded up sooner than he expected. He wants to get off at noon—he asked me to let you know.” “Thanks," said Leslie. I’ve only to strap my last bag.” And with the faintest inclination of his head he disappeared into his bedroom.

Sheila watched the door close before turning to her husband. “You know, Gerry,” she said, “you’re an awful fool.”

Gerald said nothing, and his silence exasperated her. “Well,” she went on, “what are you going to do?” “I suppose I shall have to see the blighter,” said Gerald uncertainly. "And that’s the best notion you can think of! And you let Leslie go! The moment anything happens you find you're utterly dependent on. him. How can you expect to tackle a brigand when you can't even get hot water out of your houseboys?” Gerald flung his cigarette on the floor and ground it out under his heel.

“Look here, Sheila,” be said. “I know we've been inclined to squabble lately, but you’ve never been quite like this before. You seemed to be having a very intimate farewell scene when I walked in.” Sheila recoiled.

“So that was why you wanted him to stay on so much! I suppose he's been slow in the uptake, eh?”

Sheila walked to the door of her own room before replying. “I know that I’m only your wife,” she said, one hand on the handle, “but you might remember your manners. There was a time when you were proud of them.” Gerald sprang up. “Do you expect —Oh what's the good of talking? It doesn’t matter anyway. Thank Heaven Dale’s going today anyway!” “Oh yes, he's going.” agreed Sheila, and opened the door. “But perhaps he will have to come back.” And the door closed behind her, leaving Gerald staring wretchedly after her. CHAPTER XII. For these three, then, the months that ensued were the most miserable, the most profoundly meaningless, of their lives.

Down in Shanghai Leslie Dale, to his bewilderment, and surprise, and against his better judgment, found himself still in the service of Harwood and Greer. His anger had largely evaporated during the long journey down river. And consideration and common sense told him that at his age it was unwise to start looking for a new employer after a blazing row with his former one—not that that would have mattered for himself. But he was looking forward to a future in which he would have to earn and work for two.

He swallowed his pride accordingly, and that wisdom of the serpent which was part of Mr Samuel Greer’s makeup, and had contributed more than a little to that worthy's success, helped him to take the dose without much discomfort.

Leslie received a daily allowance of the best butter. He was treated with consideration and courtesy. His advice was sought by small and large. He was assured that Gerald Havelock had only been a means to the end of getting such an invaluable servant of the Company back to head office. After all, there were other bigger and better stations, tnan Tan Fu. Leslie needed greater scope for his outstanding abilities —and so forth and so on. Let him take a few months' leave and think things over. Why not a trip to Singapore at the firm’s expense.' For a little Leslie toyed .'with the idea of accepting that last suggestion. But then he realised that he couldn't dream of going. He couldn't bother with shooting or golf or riding. He found the Club intolerable. He couldn't even write to Sheila, so that he had no outlet of any kind for his longings, and his fears. And, he admitted to himself with humiliation, the fears were in the ascendant. He worried desperately because Gerald's reports became more and more irregular as the weeks went bv.

The activities of the Japanese had thrown the whole country into confusion. Bandit activities in every direction were on the increase. And Leslie thought he knew enough of his old friend, General Wu, to be certain that that worthy would not be behindhand in exploiting circumstances so blatantly favourable for his pet hobby.

It was nearly three months before accurate news came from Tan Fu. and when it came it was such as to send Leslie storming into Samuel Greer's office. interrupting an important conference without hesitation or apology. (To be Continued).