“WILD GRAPES”

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20257, 28 July 1937, Page 4

“WILD GRAPES”

SERIAL STORY.

By THEODORA WILSON-WILSON.

A Charming Story with Delightful Appeal.

BYNOPSIS. Sir John Hammond, the ramous nerve specialist. Is disturbed by the thought less extravagance of his wire, Marie. The twins, Paula and Robert, sens there is something wrong, and an alarm lug heart attack which Sir John has i: their presence, Increases their anxiety. Paul Is engaged to Lloyd Manners, foung barrister. Robert has an “ under Standing ” with Olivo Maitland, but To Some years yet must devote himself t his singing. He Is the possessor or rich baritone voice, Inherited from hi father’s sister, Claudia, who In her da; had been a ramous singer. Gordon Tate, Marie’s artist brother. 1. going quickly on the downward patl through drink. He persuades Marie ti send him two ramous Corots, ostenslbl; to be cleaned, but really Tor him to mak copleß rrom, Tor practice. She Implore him to send them back before the nr teenth. Tor on that day there Is a bl| coming-or-age party Tor the twins. Marie receives a letter rrom her bank ■which so upsets her that she decides t< retire for a Tew days to her pet nurslni home. Gordon Tate turns up at the party, un asked, in time to see Mr Morris, a rrienc or Sir John's, looking at the raked Corots and to hear him say he will get an exper to look at them to-morrow! CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) “Then go on being afraid!” he interrupted. “I won’t be dogged anc pestered.” ‘‘lt’s the rent—and the child!” “You should have thought of thal before.” ‘‘ln God’s name," her voice broke and the sound exasperated him. He dragged out a couple of pounds and pushed them Into her hand. “Now, go, and I’m leaving here—and going where you’ll never And me, thank goodness 1 You made your bed —lie on It I” “Curse you I Curse youl” she muttered. “That’s all right, my sweet beauty!” he mocked.. “Now out you go, I’m in a hurry.” He opened the door, pushed her out, and closed it behind her. The passage lights had been turned off, and he was about to stumble his way upstairs, when his landlord, the tailor, came out. “Now look here, Mr French," he said sternly, “I’ve had about enough of you. I’ll be obliged if you’ll clear —as soon as you can get your goods packed up. Drink and women and ■who knows who visiting you. I want the house respectable. You understand?” Nothing could be better than this offensive. He would have a good excuse to pack all night, and get himself off In the morning. The landlord’s notice would spare him cash. “You make it awkward for me," he said, with a politeness worthy of his evening clothes. ‘‘Not as awkward as you make it for me,” said the landlord. “It’s all a great pity, for you can bo a gentleman—but this is the finish.” “As you like,” said be lightly. Then as ho turned on the light in his room, and looked round, lie laughed. Yet the laugh was bitter —with a touch of tragedy hiding within it. The landlord had said something which he was going to find It very difficult to forget. “It’s all a great pity, for you can be a gentleman P’ He made for the wall cupboard and drank with caution, for he had hours of hard work before him. It is easy in London to “flit,” for some man with a hand-barrow will oblige and carry off everything unwanted at a knock-down price. Meanwhile, Gordon pulled aside a portable gas fire, and opened out the grate and chimney. He would have a good deal to burn. This man oould be executive when he chose, and shortly after his scratch breakfast, the place was cleared exoept for what he Intended to take on a taxi, which Included the picture of Lady Teazle. The sooner he got away the better, and he was about to go out to find a •axi, when he was made to pause, at the sound of a low tap at the door. “Marie—youl” he exclaimed In consternation. But she pushed In excitedly, and closed the door. “Gordon, you are going away?" “I am," he replied. “My landlord has given me notice.” “Is that—why?” “What other reason?” “Gordon!” and she spoke with a strange pitifulness, "I’ve been awake nearly all night about those Corots. I oughtn’t to have sent them to you— I don’t know what possessed me I" “You wanted to do me a kindness." “Yes, I know, of course—only, did /ou send them back?” “But of course I did, two days ago. .'ll time for the precious party.” “Yes, yes,” she continued feverishly, “only Robert rang me up at Hie Nursing Home. He is afraid that Mr French returned the wrong ones. I mean—he thinks that Mr French has spoiled them—oh, I don’t quite know what I mean!” “You might be coherent, my dear Marie,” said Gordon. He was fully alert to the significance of what might happen. "You don’t mean that Mr French has returned the copies and kept the originals?” "Well, do I?” and she stared at him terrified. “But that would be criminal!” he laid lightly. “That’s what I thought, and, Gordon — wait, listen, bear with me —lf there were anything criminal, as you call It, would I be in it?” “My dear child, what a worrier vou are!” ho protested. “You know—oh. I must say It, Gordon, but I have wondered * whether there Is such a man as Mr French. I’ve, eome here so often, and I've never seen him!" ”You want a drink, Marie,” he said kindly. And downstairs. Robert Hammond was speaking to the tailor-landlord. “Mr French, oh. yes. he lives here, or did. He Is Jus! on the move. A friend of yours?” “I’ve never met him. He’s a pic-ture-cleaner. isn’t he?” ‘•Cleans them, and paints them— The landlord slopped. There was "You may catch him. ' I h.'mj given Idm notice. There’s a smart madam up there at Hie moment. 1 fancy she’s been posing for him.” “I’m much obliged.” said Robert, lie darted up the ninel\ steps past! the various landings, and gave a sharp rap at the door labelled “French. Picture Cleaner." Gor lon he d r md somehow Robert was not altogether surprised.. The> stood s lent .md alert. ".Mr French. 1 understand l" said Robert gravelv "At your s-ru. sir l" said Gordon. e '.one. , "1 understand that y.»u .re moving.? Afr French, so I am glad l am in time.'»

You did some cleaning for us recently, and we are not altogether satisfied.” t- "Really?” "Robert, that you?" exclaimed Lady Hammond excitedly, n “Mother!” “So, Marie,” exclaimed Gordon, in a deep exasperation, “you set my very ,r smart nephew to accuse me?" :o “Gordon, I don’t aocuse youl" a “Come, mother, please, and if you l * will kindly hand over my father’s * pictures, Uncle Gordon, I will take ,i them. I have my car outside.” h “And if I kindly won’t do what I y can’t do?” sneered his uncle, e “Do come, mother." ;3 “Yes, go, Marie, go and instruct your ' son as to the police. Don’t waste * time—time is valuable I” c, “Gordon!” she cried piteously, o "you’ll swear that I’ve made a hideous « mistake —that you never—never " “Go, this is nonsense—pure folly!" d he relied roughly. “Obey your son." *• Robert drew his mother away, and asked the tailor to ring for a taxi. “I suppose your father set you on!” she said bitterly. “Mother, in God’s name, pull yourself together. Father knows nothing - of all this mad game I” 3 The taxi drew up, and Robert gave the man the Nursing Home address. Then Robert plunged, up the stairs t again. He had not finished with his Uncle Gordon. » The door was open, and the studio was empty except for the picture of 3 Lady Teazle who stood smiling Impudently at him from the canvas. It was a masterly piece of work, as * hs recognised. His mother must have * visited this attic-studio a great many times to give the artist such a chance. Yet when he opened the inner room, , he saw no sign of his newly-discovered uncle. 1 He had, forgotten that emergency staircases often run from outside . '* “You silly ass!" he murmured to himself. Then he raised the portrait * and noticed a label upon it, addressed 3 to Paula. * Obviously he was at liberty to carry off the picture in his car. 3 * * * • ] But as soon as Marie’s taxi reached r the tide of traffic, she ordered the man ’ to go to a certain expensive restaurant, ? for she felt worn out, and craved for 1 refreshment. She sank down in her own special corner, and, had just given her order, } when she noticed Airs Chapman of the ' Private Bridge Club, eyeing her with ; more than ordinary interest. ' Marie thought a strong oath, cursing her luck, and wished she had the 5 nerve to rise and leave the place. But 5 such an action would be too pointed, so she smiled at the lady graciously. “My dear Lady Hammond!’’ ex--1 claimed Mrs Chapman, “how delightful to see that you are well enough to be free from that dreadful Nursing 1 Home!" ’ “Indeed, Mrs Chapman,” and Lady Hammond sighed pathetically, “I only 1 wish I were free, of the place. But I had to creep out for an important 5 engagement— and I am completely exf hausted. Do sit down—this is such a nice corner!” 1 “No, I won’t disturb you,” she said. Then she lowered, her voice. “You , know, dear Lady Hammond, it is vital 1 to the stabililv of the Club that when , I-O.U’s are given, they should be honoured as soon as possible, otherwise—lt makes it awkward!" "I know!” said Lady Hammond cheerfully, “my breakdown has put J things back—most awkwardly.” ; And then the waitress arrived and 5 Mrs Chapman moved away doubtfully. She was not altogether pleased with ‘ her ladyship.

\ CHAPTER XX. In Harley Street. L Sir John had a moment’s lull In his ' work, and Norris brought him a glass of hot milk. “Very reviving, Norris,” he said. “You do me well." “I’d do anything for you, Sir John, as you know." “I do know. Well, mind you don’t let in anyone extra without *an appoinlmenl, without asking me." “Very good, Sir John." But Sir John heard a bell, and wondered whether his man would play the game. “It is her ladyship, Sir John,” said Norris, nervously, from t lie doorway. "Marie, my dear!” exclaimed her husband, as he moved a chair for her. “Shall Norris bring you soma hot milk?” "Don’t be absurd!" she said pettishly. "l had to come along, for the position Is more thpn monstrous.” “As how?" "You know perfectly well what I mean. If we are beggars In the ditch, let me know definitely. Then I’ll sell my jewels." "You want a good deal of money?" “Nothing worth mentioning, but apparently you have set the Bunk manager on me. I’ve bad the most impudent letter from him. I might be a common tradesman!” "Well, will fifty pounds straighten you?” "Fifty pounds! I want at least a ’ hundred.” “Do you want it for ‘Gordon? He i seemed disappointed last night that i you were not at the party," lie said ; "Gordon—at The Grange! "Then you didn’t know?” “Of course I didn’t know! So that’s his latest accusation.” "No accusation. He only stayed, a very short time. Claudia entertained him to supper. And afterwards - well. I gathered that, we didn’t interest him, and ho went awav.” "Was tins all ?" Lady Hammond was it. 11 ° am 11 J ° ,in knC ' N "My dear," lie said quietly, “T wish we need, not make such a mystery of I poor Gordon. I would so much rather know everything and face the | worst. 1 can’t boar vou to worry like j this. Gordon Is not your fault.” I (To Re Continued).