IT HAPPENED TWICE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 61, Issue 40, 27 November 1940, Page 7

IT HAPPENED TWICE

By T. C. BRIDGES.

CHAPTER XVII

INTRODUCING ISOBEL.

While .Peggy’s new address was being refused to Arkwright, a taxi man at a London terminus was being admitted t<> the secret by Peggy herself.

She told the man to drive to 16, Lower Chester' Terrace. This was a small house kept by a Mrs. Ashe. Mrs Ashe’s husband had formerly been in the battalion commanded by Peggy’s father. He had died years ago, and his widow, who owned the lease of this small house, made her living by letting rooms. Peggy had) twice stayed with her, and wired to her from Taverton warning her of this third visit. Mrs Ashe, a plump little old woman with curly grey hair, met Peggy at the door with a smile that comforted Peggy’s sore heart. “Mrs Trelawney’s dead and Pm out of my job,” Peggy explained over an chlorate tea which Mrs Ashe nad prepared. Peggy who had been coo unhappy to eat in the train, enjoyed the dainty food, and Mrs Ashe talked so fast there was no need for Peggy to say much.

Mrs Ashe showed her to her room which was on the ground floor.

“A lady’s got both my top rooms,” she explained. “She’s Miss Glyde. Works for Benning’s, the theatrical custumiers. They think a deal of her, You’ll like her, Miss Peggy. Now I’ll help you unpack.” <- * * * * *‘Peggy 1 What brings you to town? Why didn’t you write. Why didn’t you let me know?” Peggy stood facing her sister, at the door of Isobel’s Chelsea flat. “All question and no welcome,” smiled Peggy. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Belle?” “Of course I’m glad to see you,” said her sister, but there, was no hint of* welcome in her tone. Isobel reserved her warmest welcomes for herself, of whom she was very fond. She was two years older than Peggy, and bore little resemblance to her younger sister. Isobel’s hair was fairer; her complexion had no natural colouring, and her clothes and grooming were studied to a degree for which Peggy had no time. This evening she was obviously dressed to dine out.

“M r s Trelawney is dead. Let me come in and I’ll explain.” In the sitting-room of the flat Isobel listened in frozen silence but, as Peggy came to the end of her story, her sister’s face expressed sheer horror. “You you mean they suspect you of poisoning Mrs Trelawney I” she got out. Peggy raised her head. “None of my friends do,” she said proudly. “But you are suspected. Oh, this is terrible. Such a disgrace!” The bell rang. Isobel sprang tip. “It’s Mr Mason —a friend of mine. He musn’t find you hero. Come into this room.”

She bundled Peggy into her-bedroom which opened off the sitting, room and quickly closed the door. Peggv was angry—so angry that she was on the point of flinging open the door and marching out. With her fingers on the handle, and the door an inch open, she paused. “Hulloa, old girl!” came a man’s yoice, then the sound of- a kiss. Peggy saw a man of about thirty, of middle height,compact and Strongly built. He was good looking in a flashy way and his evening clothes were passable except he wore a diamond stud in the front of his soft dress shirt.

Peggy could hardly believe that hei sister had allowed such a man of that type to kiss her. It became plain that Isobel had been expecting him, and that he had come to take her to dinner. Isobel donned a cloak and switched out the lights without the least regard to Peggy 3 presence. . . Peggy waited until she heard the taxi drive away, then walked straight down stairs and into the street, where she took a cab and drove back to her lodgings. By the time she got there she was so wretched that all she thought of was bed. She hadn’t reckoned with Mrs Ashe. That good lady met her at the door and, knowing unhappiness when she saw it, led Peggy gently “into her own sitting r6om, put her in a big chair by the gas f:ro which sho had just lit—sat down beside her and—said nothing at all. Presently Peggy began to talk. Sho had not intended to tell Mrs Ashe or anyope else what had happened, yet it was such a relief to confide in someono and she was certain that whatever she said to the old lady would go no further. Mrs Ashe listened to the end. “You poor dear!” sho said softly. “I’m going to give you some supper first just an omelette and toast and a cup of tea. Then we’ll talk about what’s best to be done. Miss Clyde is out to-night, so I’m not busy.” > And after a simple but tasty supper Peggy and Mrs Ashe talked until a late hour. CHANCING IDENTITY. Olivo Glydo was thirty, tall, with a slim, strong figure and features that were* handsome rather than pretty. Her skin was so dark that Peggy felt sine sho was not all English, her hair was intensely black, she had large but wellshaped hands and high-arched insteps. When they met, by ‘Mrs Ashe s contriving, Peggy took to her at once and soon they were talking freely. “I agree with Mrs Ashe,’ Miss Glydo said presently. “Your best chance will bo to change not only your name but your appearance. But all the same it s a pity. You’re much too pretty a girl for tricks of that sort.” ~ ,“Never niind that. Miss Clyde, Peggy answered. “What do you recommend?” “Dyeing that nice hair of yours, altering your eyebrow's and touching tip your face and lips. But leave it to me. Come upstairs with me and I’ll operate at once.”

A Story of Mystery and Poison.

(Copyright).

For the next hour she was busy ant when she had finished told Peggy 0 look at herself in the glass. Peggy looked —and gasped. “Know yourself?” asked Miss Glycie. “Scarcely. I could not have believe it. You are a witch.” “My trade, my dear. Lots of stage folk come to me for advice. Well, so much for your new face. What about your new name?” “I might take my mother’s name Fletcher.” ‘ ‘Good enough—Fletcher —W hat iv u go with it? You want, a one syllable name. How about Ruth?” , ~ . “Ruth Fletcher. That will do nicely, Peggy declared. “But I shall novel remember it.” “Keep on saying it over to yoursell, especially just before you go to, sleep. And think of yourself as Ruth 1' letclier/> “I’ll try,” said Peggy. “Now tell me what I owe you for all this. ’ “If your conscience demands it, you shall stand me a dinner one evening, and afterwards I’ll take you to a little club where we dance.” “Indeed I’ll stand you a dinner, ’ said Peggy warmly. “And now I’ll go tu bed and try to 'get accustomed to my new self.” Peggy slept better that night. A ext morning Mrs Aslie brought her a letter. “Someone knows your address, Miss Peggy,” she remarked. “It’s »Mr Meakin,” Peggy told her, but she waited till the other was gone before opening the letter. And that was just as well, for when Peggy read of John Arkwright’s accident she nearly collapsed. The letter went on. ‘There is no need for anxiety, Peggj. Luckily for John, his skull seems to me nearly as hard as the rock lie humped into. He has slight concussion and a broken collar hone, but Cray says that he won’t he more than a week in bed. Gerald is with him, and he could not have a better nurse. If you think fit you might write to him. Of course you need not give him your address unless you feel you can change your mind. Now another matter. Through a client of mine I hear that Mrs ReevesFareham wants a chauffeuse-companion She’s the woman who made a trip to the source of the Rio Negro, and wrote a book about it. Now she is married and lives at Hound Court, King s Langley. She has plenty of money and should pay a good salary.” Peggy sat down at onoe and wrote a grateful letter to the old solicitor. Then she took another sheet and began a letter to John. At first her pen flew over the paper. Slio covered a sheet, stopped and read what she had written. She shook her head. “This won’t do, Peggy,” she said to herself. “It isn’t fair.” Indeed it was a love letter she had been penning. She tore it up and began again.

“Dear John.—Mr Meakin has'told me of your accident. I am terribly sorry that you have been hurt, and most grateful it is no worse. I am in comfortable quarters and have every prospect of getting good employment. But I have, changed my name, and the Peggy you knew has ceased to exist, so 1 beg you not to waste time looking for her. Yet the old Peggy sends her love to the man she will never forget.”'

“Even that isn’t too good,” she said. “I ought not to have put in that last hit.” She hastily brushed away a tear which threatened to fall on the sheet, folded her letter, put it in an envelope, addressed it, went out, took a bus and posted it in the Strand. That evening she had a note from her sister. “I was sorry to run off like that,” Isobel wrote, “but you see for yourself I couldn’t help it. I, couldn’t introduce you to Mr Mason. I see in the paper that you refused to tala© the two hundred a year Mrs Trelawney left you. I think you’re crazy. How are you going to live? No one will give ,you a job. After this I think the less we see of one another thebetter.” Peggy had seldom been so angry. She took a sheot-of paper and wrote on it: v

“I quite agree,” and signed it with ‘her initials. She was addressing this when Olive Glyde came into the room. “What’s the matter, Ruth?” she asked. Peggy handed her Isobel’s lettea*. Olive-/read it.

“Funny how two sisters can be so different,” she said. “You’re v'ell rid of her.. I came in to suggest that we might have that dinner to-morrow* night. A little outing won't do you any harm.” Peggy was not feeling in any mood for merriment, but Olive Clyde had

been so kind that she agreed at once. Most of the following day slue spent m altering an evening frock. Camouflage Olivo called it, and laughingly said that Peggy mgiht have spared herself the trouble. Who was going to recognise her by a firoek? They dined at a little restaurant called’ the Delaine in Soho, where t-liP food was simple but quite good and the bill most moderate. Peggy appreciated Olive’s thoughtfulness in taking her to such a place. She knew she had done it to spare h e r purse. After they went to- a film, where Olive insisted, oil paying for the seats. A little before eleven they took a taxi, and Olive told the man to drive to the Green Lantern.

“It’s a. funny place,” Olive told her, “but quite decorous. 1 mean that a man can take his wife or sister there. Introductions ofle mot needed. Any man can ask any girl to dance with him, but takes no offence if refused. I have my regular partners. One boy, Alan Ensworth, dances well, and I’ll introduce him ”

The taxi stopped' opposite a building ini Lower Regent- Strict, and Peggy, who had never before’ been to a resort of this kind, was startled when slue- found herself in a- lift dropping down into the basement. The manager, a tall, well-dressed but rather bard-faced young man, made Peggy sign her name in a book, and, if Olive had’ not nudged her, she would certainly have written Margaret Garland in stead of “Ruth Fletcher.”

They went into a long, low-ceilingjed :oom, where a small orchestra was playing and about a dozen couples dancing. “It doesn’t fill up for another hour,” Olivo said. “All, here’s Alan. Alan, this is Ruth Fletcher. It’s her vary first visit to'a dance club.”

In spite of her dyed hair Peggy remained a very * pretty girl, and Alan at once asked her to dance. Peggy was a natural dancer, and Alan, who was really good, was delighted and copiplimented her. Ho was very gay and amusing, and, in spite of her troubles, Peggy enjoyed the turn. There were not many seats, but Alan found two chairs, and began to point out various people and tell Iter about them.

More people kept oin arriving, and suddenly Peggy herd a voice which she knew only too well. Right in front of her stood Mrs Jardine wearing a brilliant yellow dress trimmed wtith black lace. With her was Edgar Trelawney. They were not more than three paces from young Ensworth and herself.

“"What’s the matter, Miss Fletcher?” Alan asked in sudden anxiety. But P’eggy could not speak or move, She.sat as if frozen. (To be continued). ’ The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended’ to any living person otr to any public or private company.