"GAY VENTURE"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 16 November 1940, Page 10

"GAY VENTURE"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

T. C. BRIDGES.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Dicky, who seemed quite himself again, grinned cheerfully as the room filled. “Regular committee meeting,” he said. “Who’ll be chairman?” “You, Dicky," said Eve. “AU right. Then first let’s hear how Sagar caught you.” Eve told them about the letter from her sister, how she had called up Dr. Sandford and asked whether eyes could change colour. Hearing this was impossible, she had gone straight down to Devonshire and tackled Sagar. “I see now it was the silliest thing I could have done,” she said ruefully. “Sagar was far too clever for me. He explained that he had had a rare kind of cpthalmia in Arizona and that he had been blind for some time. A clever doctor had cured him but his eyes had changed colour. ‘I can find you the newspaper account,’ he said. And I have my birth certificate and other papers. Drink a cup of coffee while I fetch them.’ I drank the coffee and when I woke I was in that awful place.” She looked across at Keith. | “Shouldn’t he come next, Dicky?” i Dicky nodded, and Keith talked. “Dicky knows how I escaped in the desert,” he said. “I’ll begin with how I came down here with Jan.” i The room was very silent as Keith I spoke. Only when he told of the car j running away and its plunge into the flooded river Eve drew a quick breath. Keith told how Sagar had trapped him and of Sagar’s threat to starve him until Eve consented to the marriage. When he had finished he looked at Dicky.

"Two things I can’t explain. One, How Eve was seen on the train when she certainly jwasn’t there; the other, who sent me that file which simply saved the situation.”

“I think I can tell you who sent the file,” Eve said. “Mrs. Holt,” Mrs. Holt raised her head. “It was the least I could do, Miss Eve. And I’m glad I did it,” she added fiercely. Esther who sat next her mother spoke suddenly. “And I’m glad, too. No one will ever know what mother has suffered from that man. And it was for my sake she married him because we were just about starving.” She turned to Eve.

“It was I who wore that dress in the train, Miss Eve.” “You, Esther!” Esther bit her lip. “Sagar made me ” she stopped. “May I tell them, mother?” “Yes, my dear.”

’“Mother drew father’s pension after he was head,” Esther said. “She wrote his name on the voucher. We hadn’t a penny left. Sagar got to know.” She stopped with a sob, and Eve got up and went to her.

“My dear, I understand. I don't blame you a bit. Anyhow, the man who calls himself Sagar will never trouble ybu again—or Holt either." Dicky broke in. “Which brings us to the most important point of all —who is Sagar? Do you know, Mrs. Holt?” “I don’t sir. Holt may, but he’s nevertold me.” “Tarver will know, Dicky,” Eve said. “Shall we have him in?” “Might as well,” said Dicky. ‘Will you fetch him, Keith?” Tarver was shaved and washed; he had also had a good breakfast. He looked more like the original Tarver—too much like him, Keith thought, as he brought him across the landing. All in Dicky’s room gazed at the man as Keith indicated a chair. Dicky spoke. “Mr. Tarver, you have said that you are the one person who knows the real identity of the man who calls himself Jack Sagar?” “That’s so,” Tarver answered. “Then perhaps you will tell us.” Tarver pursed his thin lips. “A bit sudden, aren’t you?” he remarked. Dicky leaned forward. “Just what do you mean by that, Mr. Tarver?”

"I mean,” said Tarver, “that before I talk I’d like to know where I stand. You may pump me dry, then hand me over to the police.” Dicky looked across at Keith.

“There’s something in what he says, Keith. What de we do about it?” “It’s a bit awkward,” Keith admitted. “Actually it’s up to us to hand him over to justice. The police want him on suspicion of murdering Kemp.” “I didn't kill Kemp,” said Tarver, flatly. “He jumped overboard himself. He was broke and had cancer. I can prove that.” “Shall we give him the benefit of the doubt?” said Keith. “I’d say ‘yes,’ ” put in Major Kingscote. “All right,” Dicky said. “That’s a bargain. Tell us all you know and you can go, Mr. Tarver.” “That’s not enough,” Tarver answered. “What I am able to tell you will be worth a large fortune, to Miss Nisbet besides putting the finish on Sagar. I want to know what I get out of it.” “What do you want?” Dicky asked. “A ticket to South America?” Tarver smiled bleakly. “I want ten thousand pounds.” “I'm afraid,” said Dicky, gently, “that you won’t get ten thousand pence!” Tarver’s grey-green eyes narrowed. “Then Miss Nisbet gets nothing.” “But you wil] hang,” suggested Dicky. “They can’t hang me,” said Tarver coolly. “No one saw Kemp go overboard and they didn't get his body.” He faced them all. “I’ve got. stuff to sell and, if I don’t get my price, I don’t sell. Here was a moment’s silence then quite quietly Tom Lillicrap came to his feet. “Did ’ee say as the police reckoned this chap were dead, Cap’n?” he asked of Keith. “That’s the idea, Tom.” Tom nodded. “Then bain't na murder to kill a dead

man.”’ He stepped across the room, his huge hands caught Tarver and whipped him off his chair as easily as if he had been a child. Tarver gave a sharp scream and beat at Tom with his fists. He might as well have beaten Cleopatra’s Needle. Tom tucked him under his left arm and kept him helpless. “Tom, you can’t kill him,” said Keith. “Then tell ’ee what, Cap’n. Us’ll put un back where her belongs. Likely her’ll think better arter her’s been there a week or two.” “You can’t do it,” shrieked Tarver. “It’s against the law.” “Nice one you be, to talk of law,” said Tim. “Open ' the door, Mrs. Holt, if you please.” Mrs. Holt opened the door and Tom strode out. “■What a man!" said Dicky admiringly. “He carried that chap as I’d carry a puppy. ’ “And he’s taking him back to that dreadful house,” said Eve with a snudder. “Best thing to do,” declared Dicky. “But it won’t be for long. Master Tarver -will sing a different song after he’s been there for twenty-four hours.” “Won’t need to be so long as that, zur.” Tom came back into the room, still carrying Tarver “Her have changed mind already.” He dumped Tarver back into his chair. All Tarver’s self-confidence had left him, his face was the colour of ash. He kept glancing from side to side like a trapped animal. Dicky didn’t waste time. “You can think yourself lucky, Tarver. Now get on with it. What do you know about Sagar?” “He isn’t Jack Sagar. His name is Salter —Rudd Salter.” “An imposter. Then where’s the real Sagar?” “Dead. Salter killed him.” Eve went very white and Keith stretched out and took her hand. Tarver went on. “Sagar had a gold claim near Boulder in Montana and took in Salter as partner. I worked in the saloon at Boulder. They used to come in and play cards. One night they quarrelled over a poker game. Salter slapped Sagar’s face and Sagar pulled his gun. Though they both fired almost the same instant, it was Sagar who went down.

“From the Western point of view it was all fair and square. But the Sheriff was down on shooting, so Rudd Salter said he'd clear out —which he did. I thought the whole thing kind of funny for Jack Sagar’s gun was pointed straight at Salter’s chest. Didn’t seem possible he could have missed. So later I got hold of Sagar’s gun and examined it. The cartridges were dud. No bullets. I saw the whole thing was a plant and began to wonder what was behind it. Next day I went out and searched Salter’s shack and under the stove found part of a burnt letter signed by the old man, Jack’s uncle. Then of course, I knew. Rudd had stolen Jack’s papers and was going to impersonate him.”

“So then-,” said Dicky. “You thought you would have your share. *Was that it?”

“I’d as good a right to it as he,” retorted Tarver. “And how came you in the East?" Keith asked.

“Rudd went home by way of San Francisco and I followed him. I had a chance to make a bit of money in the Straits, so I stayed there a while. There wasn’t any special hurry.” “Quite so,” said Keith drily. “And now I suppose the only other thing you have to tell us is that Miss Nisbet is next heir to the Sagar property. “That’s it,” said Tarver glumly. Mrs. Holt got up quickly. Her grey face was transfigured. . “Oh, is that true?”

“It’s true all right,” said Tarver. “And now you know, can I go? You promised I could.” Keith looked at Dicky. “We did promise.” “Yet let him go,” said Dicky, “Will you see him off the place, Lillicrap. : Tom grinned. “I’ll do that, Mr. Trask.” He rose as he spoke, but with a squeal of terror, Tarver bolted. They heard him rattle down the stairs, the front door banged. Tom chuckled.

“Looks like her'd had enough of me. Reckon I better go back and tell old Jan. Her’ll be proper pleased.” He went off, Mrs. Holt and Esther followed, and after them Colonel Kingscote and Miss Lynd. Dicky looked at Eve. "I'm a bit pleased, myself, Eve," he remarked. Eve went across, bent and kissed him.

“We owe most of it to you, Dicky. I must phone to Joyce and Keith will have to get into touch with his lawyer. I think we’re all going to be quite busy for some time to come.” She and Keith went out and down the stairs, and out into the garden. Eve stood looking across the lovely valley to the great solemn hills beyond. She turned to Keith.

“It's very hard to believe I own all this. Keith.”

“You’ll be a very rich woman. Eve,” said Keith soberly. “And a good thing, too. Think of all the people we can make happy. Dicky and Joyce and Peter and Jane, Mrs. Holt and Esther, Rose Prosser, Jan and Tom Lillicrap.” “To say nothing of ourselves,” said Keith softly. “We'll bo the happiest of them all,” declared Eve as she put her arms round his neck and kissed him on the lips. THE END.

LOVED THE SAME MAN

AN EXTRAORDINARY ROMANCE In the ancient pictorial language of the Chinese, the sign representing war

was a rudimentary sketch of two women under one roof. This is often quoted by cynics as illustrating the feminine temperament, and while admittedly it is merely a picturesque exaggeration, there is one occasion perhaps when it is true. When two women are in love with one man. something of the bitterness of war enters into the contest. And when the two happen to be sisters, you have, in addition, an extremely interesting study in human conflict. This is, in fact, the situation which forms the basis of Miss Phyllis Hambeldon's story, “Jill Doesn't Count.’ Those who enjoy a romantic story, racily told, with plenty of incident and interesting characterisation, will enjoy "JILL DOESN'T COUNT.” It is the kind of story that has made Phyllis Hambledon's work widely popular, and is additionally interesting by reason of the fact that the author is the wife of a busy doctor. Her glimpses of the life of a medical practitioner are backed by exceptional knowledge and are as arresting as her vivid portraits of the sister rivals. The first instalment of "JILL DOESN’T COUNT,” will appear in this paper tomorrow. Don’t miss it!’