"GAY VENTURE"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 November 1940, Page 10

"GAY VENTURE"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By

T. C. BRIDGES.

CHAPTER XVII. Eve lay awake a long time thinking, wondering. This second sight of Keith had moved her deeply. Could he possibly be alive? She had never seen anyone look more alive. As the light grew her commonsense asserted itself. Dicky’s evidence had been definite. She could not hope to see Keith again on this earth though she had the strongest faith that she survived on some other plane and that he and she would at last meet again. Meantime she had her Ife to live on this earth and her duties to do. She slept again, peacefully, and did not wake until Esther came in with her morning tea. She came down to breakfast, her serene self, and this time did not tell even Joyce what the night had vouchsafed her.

The days passed pleasantly. Sagar kept his word and did not trouble her in any way. Eve’s joy was to see the improvement in Joyce. Within a week she was waking all over the place; her appetite had doubled and she was putting on flesh. She went fishing with Eve, she rode, she bubbled with laughter and grim Mrs. Holt spoiled her shamelessly. •

The third week of their stay at Crofton was at an end, the days were shortening when one morning Eve found a letter on the breakfast table addressed in Jane' familiar writing. She opened it and began to read. Joyce happening to glance up from her toast and marmalade, got a scare. “Eve, what’s the matter?” she asked quickly. “Jane’s not ill—or Peter?” “No, Joyce. But they’re ruined.” “Ruined,” repeated Sagar, who had

just come into the room. “Who is ruined, Eve?” “My brother-in-law and sister. Their house, all their farm buildings are burned.” “That’s bad,” said Sagar with a frown. “But I reckon they’re insured?” “They are not. That’s’ the terrible part of it. Peter used to carry an insurance but the slump hit him hard and he let it lapse.” “How did it happen?’ Sagar asked. “Jane says that someone' must have done it on purpose. There was a gale and suddenly the barn, which was full of hay, blazed up. The wind scattered burning embers everywhere and in a few minutes the other buildings and the house were all ablaze. They had to run for their lives. They lost every single thing—even their clothes.” “Oh, Eve how dreadful!” cried Joyce. “What are they doing?” Staying with the Pendereds, our nearest neighbours. Peter is trying to salvage what he can, but the farm is of no use without buildings.” “It's a real bad business,” said Sagar. “I'm mighty sorry.’ Holt came in. “Telephone call for you, sir," he said and Sagar went out. “Eve, this is terrible,” Joyce said “Can’t we do anything?” "What can we do, my clear? It’s money they want and that’s what we haven’t got.” “It’s dreadful —dreadful,” Joyce said

"Can’t we do anything?” “It’s dreadful—dreadful,’ Joyce said sadly. “Oh, why arent we rich.” She looked at Eve. “You’re not eating anything, Eve.” “I can’t, my dear. It would choke me. I must go and write to Jane. Ask Mr. Sagar to excuse me.” Sagar came back. “Where’s Eve?” “Gone to write to her sister. Oh, Mr. Sagar, this is a dreadful business.” "Dane ought to have carried an insurance,” Sagar said. “It was clean crazy not to.” : i “Well, he didn’t and Eve told you why. And now they’re ruined. They need a thousand pounds.” . . . Sagar frowned, he drank some coffee, laid his cup down and looked at Joyce. “I reckon its up to me to do something,” he said slowly. Joyce’s charming face lit up. “Oh. Mr. Sagar, it would make Eve so happy if you could help them.”

“It’s for her sake, I’d do it—not theirs,” said Sagar rather harshly. Joyce bit her lip. She felt suddenly doubtful. Was it right to let Eve be under such an obligation to Sagar? Sagar had been watching her and seemed to read her thoughts. He spoke again.

“Will you tell her I’ll put up a thousand pounds. If she’ll give me the address I’ll have the bank cable the credit. And Eve needn’t think she is under any obligation. Joyce sprang up.

"Mr. Sagar, you are the kindest man, I’ll tell her at once.”

A moment later Joyce burst into the morning room where Eve was writing. “Eve, it’s all right. Mr. Sagar will lend them the money. He wants their address. He will cable it.” Eve looked up from her letter and there was a curious expression on her face. “You told him, Joyce?”

“Of course I told him. He asked. All I said was that they needed a thousand pounds. Did Ido wrong. Evo?” ‘No, Joyce, dear. And—and it is very kind of Mr. Sagar.”

“But you don’t like being under any obligation,” Joyce said quickly. “Eve, darling, I’m sorry.” Eve stopped her.

“You are not to be sorry, Joyce. When you came in I was trying to make up my mind to ask him. Now I must go and give him the address and thank him.” She wrote Peter Dane’s address on a slip of paper and went 04.1 t. Sagar was in the room he called his study but, as he seldom wrote and hardly ever read, this was hardly a correct description. “Joyce has told me,” she said. Eve always went direct to the point. “I've come to bring the address and my very deepest thanks.- A thousand pounds is a lot of money, Mr. Sagar." Sagar looked at her from under his drooping eyelids. “It's a lot of money but not too much for me to afford. I'd like to know if it would buy me one thing.” Eve stiffened slightly. He had told Joyce there

I were no conditions, yet seemingly I there were. "It's only a small thing, Eve. Could you manage to call me Jack. After all, I am your cousin.” "But of course,” said Eve, secretly greatly relieved. “Thanks a lot,” said Sagar. He glanced at a calendar on the wall. “Only three more days. Say, I shall be mighty lonely when you folk go. I reckon I shall take a run over to Paris.” Eve opened her lips to speak, then checked herself. She knew it was useless to urge him to stay here and turn himself into a country gentleman. It wasn’t in him. ‘That’s Peter’s address, Jack,” she said. “I’ll see to it,” he told her. He did not refer again to the business. It seemed he could be generous without expecting return. Yet Eve was never at her ease with him. She tried hard to like him but something in his make-up defeated her. In the afternoon Eve went fishing. There had been rain the previous night and the river was in good order. Eve went further than usual and, following the stream up, left the in-country and

reached the Moor. Here the little river was fascinating to an angler. The clear water slightly tinged with peat came tumbling down over granite ledges in falls and rapids, forming deep pools where the small, strong trout rose readily to her fly. The keen air, the wide stretches of turf and heather and the great tors with their crowns of rugged rock gave a stormy sky. Eve loved fishing. It was about the one thing that took her mind off her troubles.

Her creel was growing heavy. Then came a splash of rain in her face. It passed, but over the heights’ to the East the sky was like an ink blot. She realised she had better get home if she wanted to avoid a ducking. Turning, she walked quickly back along the brook.

Ahead she saw a small mob of Highland cattle. They belonged, she knew, to Farmer Silas Caunter who had bred them from Scottish stock. Fine, shaggy little beasts —Eve who had been accustomed to cattle all her life did not give them two thoughts except for admiring them and think how. well they fitted into this wild moorland scene.

As she came nearer one suddenly broke away from the rest and faced her. It was a bull, and Eve felt slightly uncomfortable. The creature looked ■ distinctly hostile. Eve decided to cross the brook but could find no way of doing so without wading waist deep. The - water was high from the rain of the night. She walked straight on, facing the animal and hoping it would turn away before a decided front.

The bull had no such ideas. It bellowed, then began to tear up the ground with its horns. Before Eve could make up her mind what best to do, the creature charged.

• CHAPTER XVIII. Eve did the only thing possible—jumped over the bank into the river. The water was to her waist and so cold it made her gasp. Also the current was so strong it was all she could do to . keep her feet. In front was a low ledge of rock dividing the pool into two. Eve scrambled on to it. There was a loud bellow behind, and turning she saw the bull on the edge of the bank, showing every sign of annoyance that Eve had escaped. “Shoo!” cried Eve waving her arms. This only made the bull angrier. His small eyes glowed red with fury and the noise he made was astonishing. Eve was not frightened, but she was distinctly annoyed. The only way out of her fix was to wade across the far side of the pool, but when she came to look at it she found this was not to be done. The water was too deep and the current so strong that she did not fancy trying to swim. There seemed nothing for it but to sit down and wait. The bull, however, who had all the time in the world at his disposal, decided to wait, too. He stamped up and down, bellowing at intervals.

Meantime the cloud over the High Moor’ grew blacker and blacker and thunder began to roll in the distance. There was a big storm up there on the heights and the chances were that it would spread downwards before very long. Eve had no waterproof and she was already unpleasantly cool from her wetting. The worst of it was that help was the last thing likely. Half an hour dragged past. The bull remained on guard. Eve looked again at the water. She was trying to make up her mind to risk the swim. To he: dismay she realised that the river was rising fast. It was plain that very soon the water would cover the ledge. There was nothing for it but try to swim across to the opposite bank, and by this time it was a dangerous task. Eve did not like the coiling eddies where flecks of yellow foam spun swiftly. Yet there was no help for it, and she had begun to peel off her skirt when she heard a shout in the distance Here came Jack Sagar running. Eve’s first feeling was intense relief, her next fear. She waved her arms. “The bull!” she called. “He's dangerous.” Sagar paid no attention to the warning. He merely quickened his pace. As he came nearer Eve saw that he had not even a stick. "Be careful," she called again. “The bull is savage.” “I'll teach him to be savage." Sagar answered, and at the sound of his voice, the bull turned and regarded the newcomer. Here was someone he could get at. That was evidently the thought in his bovine mind and after a preliminary bellow he charged. (To be Continued).