The Error of Her Ways

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20957, 9 November 1939, Page 12

The Error of Her Ways

Enthralling Serial Story

CHAPTER L—(Continued) Blind Obedience “You give me lift to Wickmere, eh? Zen take zis,” giving white envelope, “to Mrs Harrowgate at Sevenoaks, eh? Mrs Harrowgate give you letter for me; I send liddler boy over here for it tomorrow—see?” Blind obedience to his superiors is the duty of a good servant, so Bendall did as he was bid, merely observing to his fellow-servant later on that the ways of foreigners are beyond all understanding, and that the more you try to make out what they are driving at the less you are likely to find out.

Staggering under the weight of his basket, and the blankets piled on his shoulder, Psani returned to the cartshed. His first glance when he had set down his load was at the moated house. No smoke from any of the chimneys; no fresh footmarks on the bridge; no movement or sign of life anywhere. Then he turned to Giuseppe, awaiting his attention in beaming expectancy. “Behold, patron,” said the little fellow, “I have obeyed your commands and made our interior beautiful.”

“It is a palace, piccino, and we will now dine like princes. Here are two magnificent sheets of newspaper which, spread over the table, will form a becoming tablecloth and conceal the dirt. What think you of this for a ham and that for a leg of mutton? The serviettes in which they are wrapped will be found of great convenience when we think it necessary to wash ourselves in the adjacent ditch. These tarts I brought expressly for you and me. These candles we will put upon this ledge that the rats may not get to them, and for a like preservation of our victuals this basket suspended from that beam will serve as a pantry. There is a plate for you and here one for me. You have a pocketknife, piccino? Good. Then are we well provided with cutlery, and our beer will be drink from the bottle. I will put that half-door in its place at once, and we will wrap these excellent blankets about us for greater warmth. Tomorrow we will see about making a fireplace, which reminds me, piccino, that I have overlooked a kettle, and must not forget it tomorrow. There! now let us regale!” The sound of voices outside had first reached the quick ear of Mrs Stutter, as she was preparing the meagre lunch in one of the rooms looking on to the courtyard. Opening the door, she raised a warning finger to Stutter .and Maicom, who, as far from each other as they could get, were stamping up and down the open space for warmth. Then she slipped through the passages to a front room, where a crack in a shutter commanded a glimpse of the bridge. “What’s up, Hemma?” whispered her husband, coming up behind her. “Police.” “There you are, Hangus. What did I tell you? Only just got that door terrights in time. If it hadn’t been for me, old man, you’d be on your way to Maidstone Gaol now about. Get out of it, Hemma; let’s have a look.” Mrs Stutter withdrew and her husband stuck his eye to the crack. “Two of ’em in plain close; but you can what they are by the cut of their hair. Smokin’ they are, as if they meant to stay; and they call that doing their dooty. Halloa! Lumme ducks! It can’t be! Yes, it is!” “What is it?” “Why, it’s that beastly Maccaroni. Him as I’ve be.en a friend to.” Malcolm jerked him away, looked, and withdrew the next instant. “Psani!” The name dropped from his lips involuntarily as the fatal significance of this man’s presence flashed upon him. “It’s all right; they are all off!” resumed Stutter, returning to the point of observation. “Ain’t even knocked at the door. Well, I’ve bested Maccaroni this time, anyhow.” “Where’s the j’int, Hemma?” asked Stutter, when he and Malcom were bidden to the feast. “There’s nothing but bread and cheese, and that is all there is of it.” As a matter of fact, Mrs Stutter had set aside a certain supply for Sylvia, and—to her credit be it stated—a supply for her parents, who were too weak now to leave their bed. “Whart! Nothing but that, and no more!” exclaimed Stutter. “How about Mrs Clifford?” asked Malcom, with a remaining vestige of decency. “She has her share. We fare and fare alike.” “That’s all right, so fur,” objected Stutter. “But a gal don’t need the same as what a ’ealthy working man do.” How long is it since you have been either? Malcom might have asked. “Howsever,” continued Stutter, “we’ll make up for this later on. As soon as it gets a bit duskyish, about four, or, say, a quarter past, I’ll just sneak out, go up to the nearest butcher’s and bring back one of the biggest and juiciest sirlines of beef I can lay my hands on.” CHAPTER LI. The Beginning of the End Pricked on by that sharp thorn, Hunger, Stutter about three saw no reason why, the coast being clear, and no likelihood of the hated Psani and the police returning, he should not go and see about that sirloin of beef. Just for curiosity, however, and to be on the safe side, he first of all went to the cracked shutter. “Hilloa! Whart’s the meanin’ of this?” he asked himself, fixing his eye on one particular point that called for an uncomfortable craning of his neck. “Hemma!” “What?”

“I’m blessed if that little beast of a boy what was hanging on the heels of them p’licemen this mornin’ ain’t over there a-pokin’ about in that shed.”

“It’s the very same,” said Mr: Stutter, taking her turn of inspection.

“Cuss him!” muttered Stutter, returning to the crack. “There he is. Of course, he don't belong to the police, but was only jist a-follerin’ on in curiosity, boy-like, to see what was on. S’pose he’s lookin’ for birds’ nests or suthinker other. Can’t stay there more’t half an hour or so. It don’t make much diff’ence so fur as I'm concerned; for I ain’t afraid of no boys. So when it’s a bit dark, I shall go out and chance the ducks, all the samei”

(BY FRANK BARRETT)

Malcom, coming in, heard the news, and from that moment the three prisoners with knowing uneasiness, continued to watch the shed where the boy at intervals was seen busily engaged in some occupation, which was clearly not birds’ nesting, until a muffled exclamation from Stutter, then at the look-out, intimated a new development. “Blow me blue! It can’t be, no it can’t; Yes, it is.” An impatient tug at his shoulder failed to move him, and he continued: “If it ain’t that beastly Maccaroni again—with a great basket on his arm—and a ’eap of blankets on his ’ead. He’s chucked ’em down. He’s lookin’ acrost here. He’s taken ’em inside! Lumme, if they ain’t goin’ to stay there, him and that boy! Whart does it mean, Hemma?”

“He believes we are here, and means to find out.” “How?” “By starvation!”

Consternation silenced Stutter for a minute, then he said, with dogged determination in his thick voice: “Then Maccaroni’s blood be upon Maccaroni’s ’ead.”

“What can you do? They’ll watch, turn and turn about. At the first sound of the key turning in the lock one will bolt one way, one the other, and they’ll have the police down on us in half an hour. How will you escape? They only want to make sure we are here; the moment they do, it’s all up with us.” “I don’t know about ‘hus.’ I s’pose you and me, Hemma, can go King’s evidence.”

“That won’t save you,” said Malcom, sullenly. “For if I’m taken, 1 shall plead guilty.” “Cad!” exclaimed Stutter. “Mean ’ound! Why have I ever stood your friend?”

To avoid possible treachery, Malcolm shortly after removed the key from the lock of the great door with the connivance of Mrs Stutter, whose sagacity alone was to be trusted. The horrors of starvation were not yet realised; the terror of the gallows was now ever before them.

When it grew dark, a light was seen in the shed; later on.Psani’s fine tenor voice was heard singing “Adio Bella Napoli,” with the boy’s soprano in chorus. In the middle of the night the shrill blast of a policeman’s whistle brought the three malefactors together, groping in the dark, quaking with fear. It was only Psani letting them know that he was still in the vicinity. (To be Continued)