THEY SAY SHE KILLED HIM

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 60, Issue 179, 8 May 1940, Page 7

THEY SAY SHE KILLED HIM

By PEARL BELLAIRS.

CHAPTER XXII. GOOD-BYE TO SUNGCHOW Mrs Simmonds decided that she couldn’t stay in Sungchow any longer, and that even the risk of pirates was better than delay. She couldn’t, wait another month for the Peiping. She left five days after Valerie on a decrepit Chinese steamer, manned, it was true, by British officers, but.not having the protection of the British flag; and that was the last Trench saw of her. At first Trench was faced with the possibility of haying to stay until he had dealt with the last case of cholera. His professional conscience bound him, and the trust of all those remarkably faithful and willing assistants at the hospital. He could not go so long as his going meant the possible cost of a single life. He mused, a little bitterly at times, in the lonely bungalow, on this obligation, and wondered exactly where he had incurred it. He chafed to get away, and when A\ u informed him that at the end of it all the Military Governor would unquestionably regard it as' a civic duty to present him with a gift of a considerable number of yen, Trench had only one thought. - “Yes, but I want to go to Hong Kong!’’ \ In his strained and overworked condition it occurred to him that he might got cholera himself and die. and never be able to go to her. And once he dreamed that it had all been a dream, that she had really , died there in-the bungalow. He wakened himself and it Wins some minutes before bad convinced liis worn nerves that it wasn’t true.

And then, one day, a fortnight after Mrs Simmonds left, a Chinese oil tanker came in to Sungchow bringing a Hindu doctor and his Chinese assistant from Hong Kong. Simmonds’ Mission had sent them to relieve Trench on hearing of Simmonds’ death. Trench could not believe at first that he was really free to go. T’nei 'Hindu and the Chinaman were so unexpected. He found that the Hindu w'as really clever; the assistant was even more adept than Wu at dealing with patients in the hospital. Everyone with sufficient English to do. so praised him; and they all exported him to go. The epidemic was waning rapidly. The number of cases had diminished, and the mortality had dropped to thirty per cent. The Military Governor and the elders of the most respected families’ houses in the town arranged a ceremony of farewell, with many speeches of repeatful gratitude, and the predicted present of a. generous sum of yen ; a gift calculated to morei than compensate Trench for the expense of his stay in Sungchow. He left independent of anything the Relief League would have t 6 say about his desertion. Four weeks after Valerie’s departure he found himself standing on the upper deck of-the departing Peiping, looking back upon Sungchow; the sprawling roofs, the pale rice fields threaded With water, the hill all warty with 1 excrescent graves. The strangest place, in which had happened the most vivid, the least forgettable experience of his life.

After a quiet trip, during Avhich he refused to be quarantined in the ship’s hospital, and argued at every meal Avith the Captain on the matter of in-ternatio-nol Quarantine luav, he arrived in Hong Kong. The British Customs Officer who came on board, said as soon as he met him:

“What? you Trench of Sungchow?” ’

“Yes,” said Trench, mildly amused. “Did you think I was Clive of India. Why?” he asked. “What about me?” “Oh, well, we’ve heard about yon. One of our fellows died of the cholera ■at Sqngehow, you know. It was in the papers, you know, about what you’ve been, doing in the epidemic down there. You were absolutely single-handed, with nothing but a tin shed for a hospital, and you reduced the mortality by sixty per cent, in eight days—is that so?”

“Not quite,” said Trench, “I wouldn’t call that the vmvarnished truth. Where did they get that story?” “Oh, I think they got it from that flying’ chap, Forrestier, you know — who fled down to Sungchqw to get his fiancee”’

said Trench. 'Hie felt suddenly nerveless. “Miss Lane —Sir George Lane’s daughter. She was down there with you, too, wasn’t she?” “Yes, she was there for a while.” The. room seemed dark.

“She 'had some pluck, hadn’t she, going ashore there.” Trench nodded, and asked after a moment of abstraction:

“Is Forrestier still in Hong Kong?”

It was the only wav of finding out whether Valerio was there still, without actually asking. It produced 1 the required answer: “Yes, I tliink lie’s, still, knocking about here. Miss Lane is still in a nursing home, I think. The “Gazette” issued bulletins about her progress, you know, when she first arrived.” Trench took a room i‘n an hotel. There was a. boat leaving for Amoy that night, and he would go on it. He.' sat by the window in the hotel, with his head on his hands, shutting out the light which he felt sick and tired of seeing. F'orrestier’s fiancee!

Ho might have known. A highly suitable marriage for her, and one-that Sir George would probably approve of. That storv, that queer, omnful and at times ecstatic little story that he a'nd slit-, had olayed out between them was only significant to themselves; and now, it seemed, meant something to him only. COLD REUNION. Unsuitable emotions were better buried, along with over-sensitive young poets, and forgotten. After a time Trench’s bitterness grew a little less. It might not be that she wanted something more' suitable; it might be Peter. But whatever it was, lie was still, that she wouldn’t forget about too tired after the long struggle in to fight against it. This was the end of his hopes. He was finished !

Whether to see her again or not lie did not know. His impulse was to go

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away without a Avoid. But he knew that without , absolute certainty he couldn’t have peace in the future. Nor had he any of the vanity which would make him want to appear in the wrong himself in the matter. At about three in the afternoon he went out into the noisy streets Avitli their queer mixture of the modern West and fhe imaginative Orient. With a heavy heart he got into a ricksha and went in search of a certain nursing home. A modern building Avitli a very smart facade, striped blinds, and AvindoAV boxes. He could imagine that it cost Sir George a lot to keep her there. “Miss Lane has visitors just uoav,” a nurse tol dhim. “Shalll send your name up?” He spnt his j*ime up and stood Avaiting on a blue and Avhite expanse of rubber floor, ignoring the chromium and leather chairs. A message Avas returned to ask him to go up. He went up, and found himself on a Avide stone balcony overlooking a garden. On the balcony Avere about ten people at an afternoon tea-table. And Valerie, half reclining in a long chair. She rose and came to meet him .*. •

She coloured ydien she saw him, and that disguised her pallor ; she was thin still, and weak looking—lmt she was -beautiful- again. She was more exquisite than he had ever imagined. “How do you do?” said Trench, quietly. ' If she had been going to say anything else it died on her lips at this formality. “Have you just arrived? I didn’t expect you!” She seemed confused. “I came this morning.” They were surrounded by people the very sight of whom, in his present state of mind, withered his kindness for humanity. There four men and about six women. “Let me introduce—” began Valerie. They were all talking and hardly looking at him. “Please don’t,” said Trench. “I’m only here for a moment.” “A cup of tea, then?” “No, thanks.” Slightly at a loss, she moved towards her chair again, and somebody engaged her in conversation. As she stood there talking, the beautifully cut turquoise blue neglige she was wearing falling filmily round her ankles, her loveliness was more than he had been prepared to withstand. He looked at the men, excessively “pukkha.” British in the Orient . . . the women, he was certain, inveterate readers of the illustrated weeklies, hoping to appear in the illustrations. Nobody spoke to him or looked at him, because he had not yet been introduced, and so lie stood there an on - looker, seeing it as a situation. •So ho had hastened all the way from Sungchow, for this! Valeirie was as far from him as she had ever been., long

ago when he had first met her, in Peter’s cottage. The unattainable ideal, Availing him only to rage and chagrin! She managed to turn from the person she Avas talking to to speak to him: “How Avere they in Sungchow?” “Almost as unhealthy as e\ r eji\ And lioav are you now?” “Oh, there’s nothing the matter Avith, me. at all 1” “A Hindu doctor and a Chinese assistant came to Sungchow to take my place,” he said. “And so I was able to get aAA’.ay.” “Oh, I see!” An a\Vkward pause. “Won’t you really have some tea?” “No, thanks, really.” CALLED' BACK. What a conversation! he thought. Had poor Peter never hanged himself? Had they never quarrelled, had he never loved her on SungchoAV in such frightful and yet Avonderful circumstances? Had she never lain dead before liis eyes, and come to life again under his hands, by what seemed a miracle— ? . •

And now she belonged to- Forrestier, and to thesei people, that woman in the maddeningly exaggerated hat who was trying to attract her attention then—- “ Excuse m,e.” And Valerie turned to talk to her. Trench waited until the conversation was finished.

He moved a little away, standing against the wall. He was reminded., with a, queer sense of the dreadfulness of fate, of that time when lie had stood against the wall in Peter’s cottage.. After a minute or two, Valea’ie returned to him.

“I must go,” lie said, before she could speak. “Oh, are you going?” “Yes, I only came to say rood-bye.” She looked at him. She was pale now, and he could see the marks of illness . .

“Oh, I see,” “I’m going on to Amoy to-night. We had a- queer time in Sungehow didn’t we?” Something impelled him to mention it.

“Yes, it was —queer, wasn’t it?” She laid a slight emphasis on the word, her head bent, not looking at him. “I hope you get on, and get over the cholera, thoroughly. Good-bye!” He held out his hand, hers automatically took it. A handshake, and he turned away from those extraordinarily beautiful, questioning eyes. Be walked away. h There was some way to go- along the wide balcony to the door by which lie had come. As he walked ho hoard his name Called,, and looked round. She was running, all her filmy turquoise fluttering, her face anxious ...

Punning after him in front of those people. He stopped, feeling giddy, with his heart thumping because of the strain that leave-taking had been. She came, putting her hand on his afi’m, quite regardless of everyone looking rather curiously along the balcony at them.

“I don’t care,” she said, her breast, heaving wildly. “I don’t care if Ido let you know! I stayed here because I was waiting for you to come. My father wanted me to go to England, hut I pretelided I couldn’t face the journey. I wouldn’t go until you had come. I was going to let you go without telling you. but I don’t care if you do know —if this —is to ho the end of it all l”

He stood staring at her. The tears

began to rain down her cheeks and she turned 1 her face aw’ay so that the others at the end of the balcony shouldn’t see.

“I suppose I’m being quite mad!” shq exclaimed. “I never ran after a man like this. But is this all—ell there was in it?”

“Come in here !” He drew her discreetly through the doorway out of sight of the party, which was now pretending not to bo interested. They were in an hall, and betook her hands and held them tightly, overcome with triumphant thankfulness. “I was going away because I heard you wore engaged to Forrestier.” “Was that all?” Relief flooded her face with colour, and her eves were brilliant through their tears. “Wasn’t it enough?”

“But you didn’t believe that? Why they’re always saying that!”

“Are they?” He felt an utier, hut exquisitelv happy fool. “As soon as I was better, I fell, that I had paid what I owed, 1 knew it was true when you said 1 couldn’t make two wrongs make a right. How could I make Pet?r happy by making you unhappy ? Can I make you happy —?” Trench answered that so forcefully that she left the hall half laughing, half crying, leaning limply on his arm. “If you’re going, will you lot me -go to Amoy, and go on with the mission, when I’m well?” she asked. “Let you?”

It seemed too good to be true, to Trench. Not only had he escaped the just punishment of his own intolerance, but he 'was also going to escape from women in exaggerated bats I But Valerie only replied: “My life is yours! You said sol”

(THE END.)