IT HAPPENED TWICE.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 61, Issue 48, 6 December 1940, Page 7

IT HAPPENED TWICE.

(Copyright).

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

CHAPTER XVIII.

within the pit the air was almost unbreathable.

; THE FIRING OF FURZY BRAKE.

But gorse burns like tinder and the worst lasted for only a minute or two. A layer of cooler air remained on the surface of the mud and enabled the two to breath. Within a very few minutes tfie blast had passed and Peggy, peering out, saw a wall of flame careering down the slope beneath them. Very shortly nothing was left but smouldering stumps from which rose clouds of stinging smoke. “We are all right, Althea,” she told the other. Althea revived a little. As th« wind blew away the smoke they both felt, better, and, picking their way through the blackened ruin, reached the car and drove home. Althea’s maid was shocked'at sight.of her mistress. As for Peggy, she got out of her scordvd clothes as quickly as possible) had a bath, then went down again. She' found the butler and asked him if Mr Trelawney was back, but the butler told her that he was still away and had said that he might not be in for dinner. “I am going to see if I can find the remains of the tea basket,” Peggy said and, getting into the car, drove straight back to the Brake. It was now six, the wind had dropped and it was a very fine evening. Peggy got out of the car and looked round. Livery yard of the great covert had been utterly destroyed. The place was a blackened desolation. Peggy soon found the ruins of the tea basket and retrieved some blackened tea knives and forks. But that was not the real object of her drive. After making quit© sure that no one was within sight, she began to search along the North side of the Brake.

A favourite, spot with Althea was Furzy Brake under Wild Tor. It was less than two miles from the house and on Coombe Royal property. On the Moor the heather and gorse are so constantly “swaled”—-that it is burnt to advance the spring grazing—it is rare to find gorse more than waist high. Furzy Brake had neyer been burned within memory of man and the gorse was* enormous. It stood eight feet high, was a famous fox covert and full of wild life. - Like all such coverts there were winding ways through it and, even on a winter day, if the sun was out, it was always easy to find a spot to sit, sheltered from the wind. Early in September came a day of strong sun and high wind. Too much wind for the exposed Moor, so it was natural that Althea and Peggy decided on Furzy Brake as the ideal spot for a tea picnic. They left the car just inside the gate and Peggy carried the basket. .The wind whipped their skirts around their legs, but the moment they had passed into the gorse, the air was calm. They found a small open space. Peggy unpacked the basket, lit a tiny spirit stove and put on the kettle. Overhead white clouds flew before the wind, their shadows dappling the sunshine, but in this little glade the warm air was still and full of the ' honey-like scent of gorse blooms. Bees were busy and linnets flitted to and fro. Peggy made the tea and handed a cup to Althea. She opened a porcelain-lined case which held scones sandwiched with strawberry jam and Devonshire cream. Althea took one and bit into it. She, sighed luxuriously. ,“I do enjoy this, Ruth. I don’t want ever to go back to London.” Peggy shook her head.

For she had a strong suspicion that the fire was no accident, but a deliberate attempt to destroy Althea and herself. . “TRY TO BE FAIR TO HIM.” It was a forlorn hope. No one knew that better than Peggy herself. The ground was too dry and hard to show foot prints. Peggy’s one chance was a fresh molehill which would hold a footprint. But the molehills were not fresh and no print could Peggy find. She was on the point of giving it up as a bad job when she caught a reflection of the rays of the setting sun on some metal object lying just inside the edge of the burned ground. She gasped as she picked it up. It was a petrol lighter, blackened and partly fused. For a moment she examined it. Wrapping it in, her handkerchief, she returned to the' car and drove straight back to Coombe Royal. Althea had gone to bed; the shock had brought on her old trouble, migraine. Peggy dinfed, and though tired, sat down with a book to await Edgar’s return.

“You won’t get Mr Trelawney to stay here in winter, I’m afraid.” Althea frowned.

“I wish he would shoot or hunt. Even to-day he has gone off to Plymouth.” Peggy suddenly stiffened. “Althea, I smell smoke.” She sprang up, and looked round. Althea, too, got up quickly. . “Yes, I can smell it.” “The gorse is afire,” said Peggy sharply. Both heard the snapping crackle of flames in the dry gorse. The sound came from' up the hill. “We’d better move,” Althea said' and began packing the things back into the tea basket. 1 “We mustn’t wait,” Peggy told her. She tried to® speak quietly, but something in her tone frightened Althea. “It’s the wind,” Peggy said, and catching her by the arm, led her quickly to the path) by which they had come. It was only a matter of moments from the time Peggy, had caught the first whiff of smoke but already the snap and crackle to a roar and a cloud of grey smoke full of sparks was sweeping upon them. Peggy stopped short. Sho that escape was already barred on that side.

It was nearly eleven before she heard the car on the drives She at once switched out the lights in the drawingroom and posted herself at' the door facing the hall. She heard the ear stop, the front door opened and Edgar came in.

'"Como on!” Althea cried in panic. “Not that way,” Peggy said. “We must .go out the other' way.” , Dragging Althea Svith .her, she ran across the little glade and"plunged into, a path on the southern side. The smoke swept down upon them like a hot fog, blinding them, making their eyes sting. The roar increased as the flames, driven by the wind, came galloping through the covert. Dried by days of hot sun, the gorse flared like celluloid. A blast of heated air beat upon them. .

Peggy’s first glimpse of his face confirmed her suspicions. Edgar was not merely nervous, he was scared. She saw him start as she stepped forward and faced him. 0 “Mrs! Trelawney has one of her headaches,” she said, quietly. “She is asleep.” Edgar licked his dry lips. “T—thank you,” he stammered. “I—l am sorry.” He turned and went into the dining-room and Peggy heard a clink of glasses and knew that he was pouring, himself a stiff drink. Peggy did a lot of thinking that night. In her own mind there was no shadow of doubt that Edgar had tried to murder them both, yet she had to realise that she had no definite proof. Other people besides Edgar used lighters of the make she had picked up. For another thing, she coulfl be certain that Edgar had a cast-iron alibi. At last she made up her mind that she would write an account of the business, seal it and give it to Rose, with orders to post it to Mr Meakin if she or Althea met with any accident. Then at last she went to sleep When Althea was better again she and Peggy went for a drive. This day was hot and calm, Peggy parked the car under. Omen Tor, and she and Althea climbed it and found a shady spot among the broken granite boulders at its summit. Here, where no risk could threaten them, they made a peaceful tea. ' v

The path-twisted endlessly. Peggy, badly frightened, was struggling to remember its curves. She knew the c<*tert as well as anyone could know it and was aware that there was a way out to the south. To find it in this smother was another thing.

Somehow she got off the track and found herself in a blind alley. There was nothing for it but to go back. By this time Althea was so terrified she could hardly walk. Peggy had to waste half her strength in holding her up. The heat was frightful, the . small fragments of burning-stuff which fell upon them like a red hot hail storm stung intolerably. But the .smoke was the worst of it. Peggy’s eyes streamed so tfyat she was almost blind. She felt it was useless—that they were both doomed, yet refused to give up. Dragging Althea, she stumbled onwards through this horrible lane. Althea was almost helpless. “Leave me, Ruth!” she moaned hoarsely. “I can’t go-any further.” “Come on!” answered Peggy and dragged her up again, and *on they staggered through the endless twisting lane, with, on either side, high walls of thorny, impenetrable gorse.Just then Peggy was almost at the end of her strength the lane widened and they came out into the open. Where they were Peggy did not know ' but, as the smoko cloud lifted for an instant, she was able to see that they were not outside the gorse but in a space entirely surrounded by the thick growth. It seemed to be about 30 paces across, and again Peggy’s heart sank, for she realised that, with the gale that wa3 now blowing the flames would lick clean across it and roast to death any living thing inside it. A rabbit wfth its fur burning ran against her feet and nearly tripped her. She stopped a moment to get breath and see if there was any possible chance of safety. She saw it. A heap of rubble and abotfe it a hole in the ground. “We’re saved!” she cried in Althea’s ear. “A mine mouth—keep up, Althea. We’ll be out of it in a moment.” Althea did not hear of, if she did, failed to understand. She was stupefied with smoke, heat and terror. Peggy dragged her by main force to the mouth of the pit, thrust her in, then followed. The adit, one of the scores that are found everywhere in those parts of the Moor where the tinners formerly' worked, was immensely old. It dropped steeply. A few yards in, it was closed by a roof fall. The bottom was red slime a foot deep. The two girls sank to their knees. Almost before they were in it the leaping flames reached the northern side of the tiny glade. A blast of red fire licked across tin? open space and instantly the far side was ablaze. Even

Althea had a small pair of field glasses, and from the top of the Tor she surveyed the wonderful view of moor and farm lands. From the spot where they sat they could look right down upon. Snipe’s Barrow, and oresently Peggy saw. a car turn into the drive. There was no mistaking it for anything but Edgar’s big saloon. Althea saw it, too. She did not speak, but Peggy saw her frown. No wonder, for Edgar had said at lunch that he was going into Taverton that afternoon. . *

Presently Althea got up and climbed higher among the rocks. Peggy shrewdly suspected that she was. watching Edgar. Some time passed, then Althea came back. Her face' was white, but a spot of angry colour burned on each cheek. “I won’t stand it,” she said fiercely. “He takes everything, eivos nothing. So far I’ve said not a word. Now I mean to speak.” i Peggy made no comment. Some instinct warned her to silence. Althea turned to her. “You’ve known of this,” she accused. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The injustice stung Peggy. “I did warn you. Long ago. I told you that he had been trying to get Mrs Jardine to marry him.” 'During the drive hack not a word was said and when they reached the house Althea went straight to her room. Peggy felt very uneasy. It was nearly seven before Edgar returned. Hoi went straight to his room and Peggy hoard Althea tap at the door. She went in and it was a quarter bf an hour before she came out. At dinner she looked more cheerful. Edgar not only talked, hut laid himself out to be pleasant. Peggy kept silence and afterwards made an excuse to go to her room. An hour later there was a tap on her door and Althea in. “It’s all right,” she said cheerfully. “I talked straight and Edgar

took it well. He has premised, to keep clear of heir.” She paused, but Peggy did not speak. Althea frowned. “You think I’m weak,” she said sharply. “If you’d heard what I said you wouldn’t have that idea.” Peggy still kept silence. She really dared net speak. Althea’s voice rose angrily. “You have always been down on Edgar. You never were fair to him.” “You are his wife. You ought to know more about him than I,” Peggy answered. “I do,” cried Althea defiantly. “And I want you to be more considerate to him in future.” Peggy had a temper and for once it slipped her control. “I will try,” she answered, “but it is hard to be considerate "to a man who has tried to murder you. Don’t say I’m mad. I have evidence that he started the fire on the moor.” (To be continued).