PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21208, 3 September 1940, Page 8

PAID IN FULL

by H. S. Sarbert

= NEW SERIAL STORY |

CHAPTER IV (Continued) “Harry, I’m not going to stand this!” Carrie cried indignantly. “I’ve ! had enough of this rudeness from this silly old man! I’m going to drive John Winn heard that all right. “I shouldn’t be surprised if you drove right to destruction one of these days,” he said. “But it’s a great pity you must be taking someone with you—someone who should have had more sense, but will be made to pay for it one of these days. Come, Viola, my dear.” “Good-bye, Harry!” “Good-bye, Viola!” Just that whispered farewell, a touch of the hands again, and Viola went with her granddad into the church, seeing everything through a blur of tears. She had so often come this way with Harry by her side, and now their paths were far apart. From the bottom of her heart, she regretted there had been that little scene with her grandfather, yet it was only what might have been expected. John Winn was not the type to stand “back-answers,” as he called them, and there had been no mistaking the scorn and contempt with which Carrie Lucas had treated them both. It seemed that she had only stopped in order that she might indulge in a sneer at her expense. And Harry—well, yes, Harry had been pleased to see her, up to a point; but he had been utterly ill-at-ease.

Harry Preston got into his old home in the way he had said he would. He remained there over an hour, while Carrie motoi'ed up to see her friends at the Hall.

Harry went through the shop, glanced round to see everything was in order, and then visited every room in the house.

It seemed very dreary, very empty. The sound of the motor-horn outside caused him to give a last look round and then go out to join Carrie. “We’ll have to let out a bit on the homeward run,” she said. “I don’t want to be back in town too late. Everything all right in there, Harry boy? Butter and eggs an& so forth all just as they should be?” “Everything’s all right,” Harry replied, without enthusiasm. “Good! Now let’s see what we can doi” “Carrie, I’d rather cut down that speeding,” Harry protested. “There’s no need. It won’t take us all that

Carrie made an impatient gesture. “For goodness sake, Harry,” she cried, with sudden irritability, “don’t start preaching at me. I’d have gone to church if I’d wanted to hear a sermon. Just let me do something on my own, will you, there’s a good boy. Now, then, if we hurry we’ll just miss the folk coming from church —and that’s something very much to be desired, I’m sure! Above all things, I don’t want to have anything more to say to that rude old man.” She rushed the car through the little main street, up the hill, and past the church, then down the hill, where there was a sharp turn to the right.

It was a dangerous turn. Harry knew that. He had seen many minor accidents there. He leaned slightly forward. “Carrie, be careful,” he cried out. “Whatever you do—be careful here. There’s a sharp turn.” “I know!”

They reached the bottom of the hill, and Carrie swung round the steering-wheel viciously. Then a cry came from her lips. For the car skidded, swerved, and rocked, jerking the wheel from her hands. It turned in a semi-circle and toppled over on its right side. Harry’s thought then was of the girl. He made an effort to save her, but the impact was too severe. He was flung right out, and landed by the side of the roadway—to lie there very still. CHAPTER V. Was This Death? Carrie Lucas, however, had escaped without any injury at all. Harry had saved her from that. His own body had protected hers, and she found herself in a curious position, half in and half out of the car. The window had been smashed to atoms. There were splinters of glass in Carrie’s hair, in her clothes; they had flashed past her face. But she had not been injured. Naturally, she was shaken. She was trembling from head to foot, but that did not prevent her from clambering out of the car. Then she stood still, and stared at the inert figure in the roadway. There had been a terrible crash as the car had overturned, but now there was stillness. The lazy twitter of a bird in a neighbouring tree could be heard quite distinctly. “Harry!”

Carrie whispered the word, and then went forward and fell down on her knees by the young man’s side. She lifted one of his hands and found it limp. It gave no return pressure. His face was towards her, and there was no trace of blood anywhere. Carrie was conscious of a great feeling of relief over this, for she hated the sight of blood. There was a grim, strained look about his face, which was very pale. To Carrie, Harry did not seem to be breathing, and a cold, terrible fear gripped at her heart-strings. As a general rule she was utterly selfish, but the sight of Harry awoke a great fear in her mind.

Was this death? Would Harry never speak to her, never smile at her again? And if it was death, was she not to blame? He had not wanted to come out for this day’s joy-ride in the first place; he had meant to meet his father and to go to church with him. Mr Preston! The man who had disliked and mistrusted her from the very first, who had asked her to keep away from his son. What would Harry’s father say about this? He would surely blame her. He would hold her responsible for everything —and that would be pretty terrible. Deep down in her heart Carrie knew

she was afraid of Mr Preston. She had laughed at him; she had delighted in the scores that she had had over him—but the fear was there. She had come between father and son, and the father would never forgive her. It had been her own idea

to visit Shalford. She had wanted to laugh and sneer at the folk there —especially Viola Winn. And then, only a few moments before the accident, Harry had protested to her against the speeding; had begged he” to slow down, had said that it would be much better if she went slower, and she had just laughed at him. (To be continued daily)