OUTPOST IN CHINA

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 July 1940, Page 10

OUTPOST IN CHINA

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRxiGHTZ

By

VAL GIELGUD.

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

CHAPTER XVII. (Continued.) Patrick James proceeded to the refilling of his pipe. Gerald Havelock wandered over to the sideboard and poured himself a stiff whisky and soda. -You know, Gerald,” said James quietly, “I thought better of you than that.” Gerald squirted soda savagely into his glass. “Are you going to tell me how to run my station now'.’” he asked. “Don’t lose your temper! You began by being amiable when you should have been tough, and then became truculent when you should have been amiable. You should have heard Leslie Dale handle that beggar! It tool: more than a few stale proverbs to get him rattled. I can tell you!” “I’ve not doubt you can,” sneered Gerald, gulping his whisky. James’s formidable jaw stiffened. “Leslie did a lot for you, Gerald, you know.” “He certainly did!” laughed Gerald bitterly. He began by teaching me; then he patronised me; then he left me to a job he knew was too much forme; finally, he’s shaken Sheila’s loyalty to me. It’s a lot from one man!” “Look here,” protested James soothingly, “you’re seeing everything wrong Leslie’s the whitest man I've ever met —and I’ve known a few. He did all he could for you.” Gerald poured himself out a second drink. “The marines,” he said, “might believe that in the circumstances!” Patrick James’s Irish temper might well have got the better of the discipline of his cloth at that moment, it he had not been interrupted by the door opening to admit Sheila and his wife. “Hello,” said Janet cheerily, “got rid of the Big Bad Wolf?” Gerald’s only response to that singularly ill-timed pleasantry was tc stride across the room and pull Sheila round to face James full. “I think,” said Janet James hurriedly, “that we’re rather in the way, Pat.” “The conference was a wash-out,” said the missionary in an undertone. “I’m afraid Gerald’s rather upset.” “I can do without the soothing-syrup thanks,” sneered Gerald. “Tell them, Sheila!” Sheila wrenched herself free. “I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Gerry,” she said quietly, “except of the way in which you’re making an exhibition of yourself!” Patrick James stared. “Is that enough for you?” demanded Gerald.

He glared comprehensively round the room, made a queer baffled gesture with one hand, and flung out oi the french window.

“Won't you sit down?” suggested Sheila calmly. “Dinner shouldn’t be a minute or two now.”

“I think," said Janet, “that you’d better go and look after Gerald. Pat. Get along with you!” "Oh quite—quite,” agreed the missionary, rather blankly. And he hurried out in his turn. The two women were left facing one another.

“That,” said Janet, “is a good deal better. We can now breathe. Men are children, aren’t they? And they de clutter up the place so. I think I should .like one cigarette. Sheila smiled shakily. “Thank you,” she said. "That was clever of you. Well?” Janet James crossed her woollenstockinged legs, and blew smoke towards the ceiling. “You needn’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to talk to you like a mother. I have to do a good deal of that to Pat, bless him. I like you, Sheila, you know. You’re so delightfully young. You almost make me feel young again.” “And you’re also—curious?” suggested Sheila. "Very,” admitted Janet. “So let’s be girls together, shall we? You dislike me a little, and I-disapprove of you a little. So there’s lots of room for us to get on better and better.” “I don’t think,” said Sheila slowly, “that I should dislike you at all anywhere else.” “You wouldn’t notice me anywhere else,” said Janet smiling. “Tan Fu has got on your nerves as much as on youi husband's.”

“Why hasn’t it ever got on yours. Mrs James?” Janet smiled, and about that smile there was a sweet and grave certainly which made Sheila Havelock realise that something was most certainly missing from her life. “Of course, it’s old-fashioned of me,” she said, "but I love Pat.” "Docs it make all that difference," said Sheila, wincing a little, "to love a man?"

“In a curious way. it manages to take the common out- of common-place my dear.” Sheila looked at the window, and the streak of river beyond. "I always wondered,” she said, almost to herself.

"Surely you ought to give your husband another chance?" said Janet quietly. Sheila’s lips tightened. "Are you bound to give me good advice, just because you're too old to be able to set me a bad example?" she demanded.

Janet James laughed outright, hi a way that last parry of the girl's had caught her on the raw. For though Janet disapproved, by inclination as well as the experience of a lifetime, of any slackening of the marriage bond, there was something about Gerald Havelock which made it exceptionally difficult to regard him with other than a good deal of exasperation, to use no stronger a word! In Janet's eyes hei was a milksop. The early Edwardian 1 term put it 111 a nutshell. He ought to be able to look after his wife. He

ought not to drink so much whisky. Sheila had stubbed out her cigarette nervously, and was peering out into the darkness from the corner of the verandah. "Didn’t your husband say that the conference with Wu had come to grief?” she asked abruptly, without turning round. “Yes,” said Janet, “why?” "Oh I only thought That if it were so, we might have something more than my character to worry about!” "Pat’ll let me know what he wants done in lots of time.” said Janet coldly. Sheila’s eyebrows rose. “You’re quite happy to leave it to him —if Wit’s going to shoot the place up?” “My dear,” sadi Janet soothingly, “he and I were through the Boxer business in the year dot. No one who lay awake in the Pekin Legations night after night, hearing those awful brass trumpets howling eternal hatred for all ‘foreign devils,’ is going to bother much about Wu. This is just a picnic for Fat.”

“Gerald,” said Sheila, “was always a fool on a picnic! Left the salt behind, or laid the cloth over an ant’s nest ”

Janet looked at the girl shrewdly. Sheila had come back from the window, and now stood fretting the edge of the tablecloth with her fingers. The' youth and gaiety seemed to have deserted her face altogether—but that may have been a trick of the lamplight. “Are you getting scared?” murmured Janet. “1 promise you there’s no danger ” “You’ve your husband to back you, haven’t you? I wish I had someone to rely on.” CHAPTER XVIII. “I’m afraid I’ve left my wand behind,” said a voice quietly behind her, “but otherwise I am the good fairy to grant your wish.” Sheila sung round. Janet James jumped up. And Leslie Dale grinned and held out his hand. The hand and his face were extremely dirty. His clothes, even for a man who cared nothing for appearance, were simply disreputable. And his boots were thick with dust. He was also, to judge by the hollows under his eyes, very weary. “How on earth did you ever get here?” "The river,” said Leslie Dale, “is still running, unlike the local railways. But I had to ride across country from Chungking. And I’m sorry to say that I’ve killed a very gallant pony in doing so, poor brute. But I was in a hurry." “You must have been, to take that sort of risk,” said Janet. “The hills are alive with banditti. I’m not pleased with you, Leslie.” “I was expecting an especially warm welcome,” Dale protested. "Why aren't you pleased?” . Janet looked at Sheila Havelock before she answered. "Sheila and I,” she said, "have been having a heart to heart talk.” “And what have I to do with the summer fashions of Tan Fu?” • “I'm serious, Leslie." “So am I,” said Leslie. “I’m hungry as any number of hunters. Don’t look so stunned, Sheila.” Sheila who hadn’t stirred since he walked in, came suddenly to life. “I wasn’t expecting y"u, that’s all,’ she said slowly. “May I use your bedroom, Sheila?” asked Janet suddenly. “I think 1 should powder my nose before dinner, however plain I may be." Leslie moved quickly to the bedroom door and opened it. The missionary’s wife stopped on the threshold of the bedroom and looked Leslie very straight in the eyes. “I’m very glad to see you, Leslie,” she said. “We need a man to put Wu Tso Ling in his place. That’s the sort of thing you’re good at.” Leslie Dale became elaborately matter-of-fact. “Sheila,” he said, “we’ve a lot to do. and much too little time in which to get it clone. I’m afraid you weren't listening just now. I did the last twenty-five miles by pony across the hills. The poor brute’s lying dead half a mile down the road. By rights J ought never to have got through at all. Luckily no Chinese can shoot for nuts —certainly not at night. And there’s no way of getting out. I've got to stay here.” Sheila stood clasping and unclasping her hands. Leslie went on and told her of what has happened in the Shanghai office; of the result on Samuel Greer of the bad news from Tan Fu; of his own reappointment to the station, with the subsidiary job of somehow getting the Havelocks away. “The only bad trouble is that I don't see the remotest chance of getting Gerald away with the whole country up. And up it is. What’s all this about Wu?" “He's threatened to attack and loot Tan Fu in form." said Sheila. "Gerald and the padre saw nim today—but Gerald, I’m afraid, made a hash of it.” Leslie Dale's mouth tightened ominously. "So I must have my show-down with Wu. after all. he said. “Well, it was bound to come sooner or later. When does this ultimatum expire, d'you know? "Tomorrow evening. 1 thin!:, Leslie.” “Curse!” Lesslie exploded. “That means I don't get any dinner!’ Sheila stared uncomprchendingly. Janet James reopened her door just intime to hear the last sentence. “Did someone mention dinner?" she inquired "I’m sorry to interrupt you. but I’ve powdered my nose three times already, and it must look just like a marsh-mallow!” I

(To be Continued)