THE CHANNEL-CRASHER

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 62, Issue 306, 8 October 1942, Page 6

THE CHANNEL-CRASHER

| By LESLIE BERESFORD. &

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| (Copyright). =

CHAPTER XXVII. “BE CAREFUL OF THOSE NOTES.” By this time he had turned into the gates of Quarry Hill, to see just ahead of him the tail light of a stationaiy car. Standing beside it Vas Rowena Drew.

“Would you believe it?” she exclaimed, gesturing towards the car. “The wretched thing’s left me stranded here. I’ve spent a quarter of an hour examining everything, only to. find that the tank is bone dry. I’ve used the last drop of petrol.” “Then Ave must walk to the front door,” he suggested laughingly, “which means little more than five minutes in what is really quite a pleasant night. The car will be all right left here, Avon’t it?” “Of course.. I’ve been making it. I’ll send someone for it.”

They strolled on through the parkland, Avhile she described animatedly the events of her evening at the canteen. She admitted that she had said a feAv Avords, and that the little speech seemed to go doAvn quite Avell. “As a matter of fact, when I getup to talk, I didn’t say a Avord. Id. set out to say,” she told him. “I got my inspiration from you.” “From me!”

“Yes, I talked briefly on the theme that while we British people tend to drift, and are exasperatingly sloav in facing unpleasantness, Ave do it eventually, and find the courage to square up to the worst and overcome it.” “A very nice idea,” he remarked. The fact that Rowena DreAV had seen him as the embodiment of British courage did not linger long in the mind of the man who was calling himself John Craven. She was the last person from whom he Avante.d to hear praise. It hurt him to think the adventure of these last weeks since his landing on that Sussex coast road, and his meeting Avith her, must end Avith ironic precipitancy quite soon now. He must go out, as; once before he .went out, into a different and a more creditable life. And —she? He could not hope that she Avould be unaffected. He judged her too highly for that. Also, AVithout judging her, he could guage her emotions from the depth and reality of his oavii.

He AVias going to hurt her. And that, he kneAV Avas going to hurt him as well. But it just had to happen. Craven Avas hard at work Avhen next late afternoon brought Avintry dusk. Minutes of the Midland conference were being drafted after final discussion. Craven had all the details in his possession. He could well measure their value to those outside the veil of secrecy, if only that veil Avere lifted.

It Avas in his poAver to do that very thing, as apparently young Peter Sayers had done it to meet financial crisis. And he seemingly had got aAvay Avith it, unchallenged, let alone uncondemned. By all accounts, he iioav held <a< responsible military post in the Middle East, if indeed be Avas yet there.

The point did not harry him particularly. He had made up his mind, and the results did not matter. Sir Bantock kept him too busy to give much thought to the personal element, though—at the end of a hectic couple of hours — DreAV unwittingly reminded him of it.

“Be very careful of those notes, Craven!” Sir Bantock warned. “You don’t Avant telling that a lot depends on their safety—and secrecy as lo their contents. If certain decisions made in them lost that secrecy—'well, you’re aware of that, and iany such mishap Avon’t, I’m convinced, be due to you. I didn’t speak for that reason ”

He hesitated awkwardly, gulping clown hot tea for which he had sent, adding after (a, .pause: “I understand you’ve had a chat with Superintendent Willing, and he s more or less fixed up with you to to co-operate with him.”

“That’s so, sir.” “And he mentioned that he had grounds for suspecting —I must admit, to my personal surprise—our young friend, Peter Sayers.” “He did, sir.”

“Well, I think—l hope—Willing’s wrong. But we shall find out in the end. Meantime —I don’t want you for a moment to imagine I put you in the class, or that a man of your type would betray a trust of such importance. That’s the last thing I should hazard about you. Only of course, it’s rather stupid—”he laughed, pushed his empty tea-cup on one side, and left the sentence in the air.

Later, Craven went to his room, where he was left alone and undisturbed for a, long while. He spent the greater part of half-an-hour studying the sheaf of notes he had been carrying in his hand. From these he appeared to be making a very brief summary on a leaf in the small pocket, diary he always had with him in a breast pocket, and to which he presently returned it. This done, he smiled wryly, placing the sheaf of notes in a safe which he then locked. They would not be wanted again till after the week-end, when they would be taken to London. Meanwhile — Quarry Hill was unusually full of guests. Those officials who had returned with Sir Bantock from the Midlands were staying, and Rowena had a fighter-pilot cousin and his young wife over from an air-station in the West'-Country, as well as> sundry Servicemen and girls, who were looking in for dancing and company.

It suited Craven well, this influx of liveliness, on the outer fringe of which he moved, without really joining in.

y - For the crowd and movement and thedancing made a screen behind which his own .activities, or lack of them, might be unobserved, as could not have been the case had there been no visitors. (To he Continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.