IT HAPPENED TWICE.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 61, Issue 45, 3 December 1940, Page 7

IT HAPPENED TWICE.

j By T. C. BRIDGES. :: ft t A Story of Mystery and Poison.

(Copyright).

CHAPTER XV.

to leave you a few minutes. Do you mind?” “Of course not. Go ahead. I shall be all right.” He hurried off and almost at once vanished in the thickly falling snow. Peggy lay very still. The pain was nothing to the fear and dismay she felt. She began to wonder what would happen if Alan failed to find the patrol, or if he himself lost his way. In this temperature she would not last long. A shout came faintly, muffled by the snow. Peggy shouted back. Two figures loomed through the white fog. They were Alan and a sturdy young Swiss. The latter was pulling a hand sledge. Alan was breathing hard. “1 couldn’t find him,” he panted. “Are you frozen, Ruth?” “Not yet,” said Peggy forcing a smile.

ALPINE PROPOSAL.

‘‘To-day it’s snowing,” Peggy wrote to Olive-from. Pontresina. “A thin fine powder resembling frozen sand, not a bit-like'the big soft flakes we get at home. But this is the first snowy day since we came. Most of the time there has been glorious sunshine and hard frost. Althea is enjoying it and I never felt more fit.

“Alan is a brick and has been kindness "itself to us both. Myl chief trouble is that he and Althea, though excellent friends, don’t fall for one another. At present I spend my time, collecting any men . who seem nice, to introduce to her. I have become quite shameless!” She posted : her iiote, and in their sitting room, found Althea reading a letter. Althea looked up and Peggy saw at once that she was excited.

They lifted her on to the sledge and wrapped her in ' a warm rug. The patrol picked up a rope attached to the front of the sledge, Alan took the handles at the back, and they started for the hotel. An hour later Peggy was in bed, and the doctor was examining her ankle.

“I’ve just heard from • Edgar Trelawney, Ruth. He says he’s coming here. He’ll arrive on Saturday.”

The shock was so great that' Peggy could not help showing it. “What’s the matter,” Althea demanded and for once her tone was quite tart Peggy hesitated and Althea went on. “You don’t like him, Ruth?” “I’m not going to lie to you, Althea. I don’t.”

“No bones broken,” ho said, “but a severe sprain. You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for at least two weeks.”

He gave her an opiate. But for that Peggy would have had little sleep that night. THE SCALE TURNS.

“Why not? You don’t know anything about him.”

“I do. Miss Glyde told me that he had been mixed tip with that'Mrs Jardine and you know as well as I what her reputation is.” Althea frowned.

Althea was kindness itself. Elven after Edgar came she still spent much time in Peggy’s room. Nothing that money could do for Peggy was left undone.

“That’s just gossip.” “It’s true, Althea. I’ve seen them together. And Mrs Jardine gives me cold chills.”

Alan stayed until the following Tuesday ; then he had a violent row with Edgar. After that there was nothing for it but to go. Before he left he came to say good-bye fo Peggy. “I’m not going to apologise,” he said. “The fellow asked for it. All the same, it was a bad joss. He’s playing the injured innocent, and Althea is comforting him. It’s a rotten world, Ruth.”

“I like Edgar Trelawney,” Althea retorted. “He has always been .nice to me. When he comes I shall ask him about Mrs Jardine.”

“You don’t expect him to tell you the truth, do you?” said Peggy. Althea flared up. “Why not? Just because you don’t •happen to like him you believe any nasty story you hear about him- I never dreamed you could be so unfair.” Peggy was silent. She simply did not dare to speak. If she once started she felt she might not be able to stop. She turned and went out of the room and did not see Althea again till lunch, at which they scarcely spoke. She had an oppointment to go ski-ing with Alan, and soon the two were zigzagging steadily up the long slopes among the pine trees. The sun had come out and the white glare was dazzling, yet very beautiful. They were far up the valley , when Allan pulled up at the head of a steep slope. Close above them was an enormous rock. Alan pointed to it. “The Monk’s Head,” he said. Peggy looked. The resemblance was perfect, but terrible.

“Not with people like you in it,” Peggy said. “I only wish you’d knocked his head off. Tell me, Alan, how are things between him and Althea? She knows I don’t know him and never talks about him.”

“Bad; you may expect the engagement to be announced any day.” Peggy was silent, but the look on her face wrung Alan’s heart. “Don’t look like that, Ruth,” he said sharply. “I can’t stick it. Anyhow, there’s no need for you to be so miserable. This man you spoke of—why don’t you marry him?” “I can’t!” said Peggy, in a small voice.

“What! Is he married already?” “No!” Alan frowned. “You mean he doesn’t know?”

“He know’s,” said Peggy. “He’d marry me to-morrow if I’d let him.” Alan flung up his hands. ‘You’re crazy, Ruth!”

“Let’s get away,” Peggy said. “I can’t bear the sight of it. I feel it will bring me bad luck.” Alan nodded. “I was going to turn, anyhow. Clouds are forming again over the Sella. There’ll be more snow. But there’s no hurry. Tell me what’s the trouble with Althea.’

“Near it!” Peggy said, grimly. “It’s no good, Alan. 1 can’t explain. But when I can, you’re the first person I’ll tell.” Alan shook his head.

“Ruth, I’m fonder of you than you know. If'there’s any blessed thing 1 can do for you, you’ve only to tell me.” Tears stood in Peggy’s eyes. “You’re a dear, Alan. But there’s not a thing you can do. You’d better go now—l’m going to cry!” He bent and kissed her on the cheek.

“She has heard from Edgar Trelawney. He will be here on Saturday.” v

Alan swore. “That blighter coming. Then I’m going home.” He turned sharply to Peggy, and the look on his face startled her. “R/uth, he said sharply. “You can’t stay, either. Listen 1 Leave Althea. Come with me. Marry me. I’ve been in love with you ever since we first met.”

“Good-bye, Ruth! You know where to find me. I’ll come any time you want me.” He turned and went quickly out of the room. 'He was a true prophet. That same evening Althea came t<f siee Peggy, and her face was so lit up, here eyes so bright, that Peggy’s heart sank. “Ruth,” said Althea, eagerly. “He’s told me everything. He admitted he was fond of Mrs Jardine. Then quite by chance he found that she was not a widow. Her husband was still alive. He asked her straight out if this was true, and she turned on him and demanded to know why hie had been spying on her. She was so violent that he left her. He told me that the scene killed all his feeling for her., Then be met me, and he says I attracted him at once. Now he has asked me to marry him, and—oh, Ruth, I am, so happy!” Peggy fried to speak but no words would come. She sat, propped with pillows, gazing up at Althea with eyes full of misery.

The shock was so great it left Peggy speechless. Alan went on:

“I have some money. I’ll be good to you, Ruth. I- -’’ She held up her hand. t

“I can’t, Alan.” Flushed and distressed, she looked so lovely that Alan flung out his arms. She moved away. “I can’t, Alan,” she repeated. “I like you yery much. You’ve been the best of friends, but—•—” “There’s someone else,” said Alan. Peggy .bowed her head. “There is. Oh, Alan, I’m so sorry.” Alan braced himself.

“It’s all right, my dear. It’s not your fault. You’re no flirt—never He saw the tears in her eyes. “Don’t be sad. I’ll help you any way I can.” “You are the kindest man, Alan,” Peggy said brokenly. The tears w r ere now on her cheeks. “If I’d only known! But I never dreamed you were serious. I—l hoped you w T ere fond of Althea.” Alan answered with a harsh laugh. “I didn’t care for her. She’s in love with this fellow, Trelawney, and I don’t know what can be done about it. He’s after her for her money. ' The fellow couldn’t love anyone but himself.” He glanced round. “Those clouds are rising fast. We’d better shove along if we don’t want to be caught. We’re a long way from the hotel.” The sunlight- had gone, the sky was grey again and presently the air became misty with tiny ice particles. Alan quickened his pace. He did not speak, but Peggy had a feeling that he was anxious. The mist thickened. The flakes grew thicker; they stung her cheeks. The horizon drew in. A tree loomed ahead, dim in the white fog. Alan kept to the right, but Peggy, who had fallen a little behind, swung left. She found herself dropping into a hollow which she had not seen.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Althea asked. “I cant. Oh, I can’t!” Peggy answered. <

“But why, Ruth?” Althea questioned. If she had been angry it would have been easier for Peggy. As it was, she was at her wits’ ends how to answer.

“I can’t make out why you are so prejudiced against Edgar,” Althea went on. “You don’t know him. You have hardly spoken to him. It’s all vexy strange to me.” She paused a moment but, as Peggy did not speak, went on “Edgar has faults. Even I can see that. But I love him, Ruth, and I’m going to marry him. Nothing can change that.” It was true. Peggy saw it and knew at once that nothing she could' say would have any effect. When a weak but obstinate wbman like Althea takes the bit between her teethi there is no turning her. A moment earlier Peggy had been on the point of blurting out the whole story. She would have sacrificed herself to have Althea. Now she realised that it was useless. The tale of Chesham’s death she could not tell, though the fact of his being missing might reveal itself any day. Apart from that all she could say was that Edgar was extravagant and selfish.

Instead of letting herself go, she tried to swerve. The point of her right ski drove deep into the snow and over she went. An agonising pain shot through her right ankle and she lay helpless, half buried, a/ the bottom of the hollow.

“You have been very good to me, Althea, and I would do anything to see you happy, but I can’t feel that you will he happy with Edgar Trelawney. Now you won’t be needing me any longer so —” Althea, broke in. “What nonsense! I could not dream of parting with yoai.” “And yet I must go,” Peggy insisted. “Edgar ’Trelawney would soon want to get rid of me even if you did not.”

In a moment Alan was bending over her. “Hurt, Ruth?” he asked quickly. “My right ankle,” Peggy replied faintly. Very quickly he had her skis off. He laid them together and lifted her upon them. Gentle as he was, the movement brought a little gasp from her lips. “Is it broken?” Alan asked, anxiously

“Listen, Ruth! He and I plan to go on a six months cruise. Then we shall go to his place in Devonshire to live. Edgar, who seems to have been very extravagant, has got rid of his mothers servants.” “I want you to go down there, to Coombe Royal—that’s the name of the

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Oh, Alan, I am sorry.” “Don’t worry. There’s a patrol not far away. We passed the post on the way up.. I’ll find him. But I’ll have

place—and get everything ready. You will have plenty of time and plenty of help and I shall of course give you a free hand.”

Peggy drew a long breath. To be down at Ocombe Royal again in her beloved Devonshire; to be close to John Arkwright! Then the shield turned. No, the risk was impossible; she would be recognised. She shodk her head.

“It only means putting off tine evil day. Better to make the break at once.”

“There’s not going to be any break,” said Althea with unusual firmness. But now you are tired and excited so I’m not going to let you talk any more to-night. Good-night, my dear.” Peggy had no sleeping draught to help her that night. She lay and tossed miserably thinking and thinking but always coming to a blind end. Towards morning she dozed and waked to find a maid with her dainty breakfast. There was a. letter on the tray. “iPeggy, dear,” Isobel wrote. “They have given him five years. The-judge said it ought to have been seven . . . I’m very miserable, Peggy, and longing to see you . . .” That letter turned the scale. Whatever happened, Isobel should mot go short. When Althea came up an hour later Peggy told her that she would go to Coombe Royal. Altheas face lit up. She stooped and kissed Peggy. “My dear I knew you’d be sensible,” she said’.