THE GIRL IN THE CRIMSON CLOAK.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 63, Issue 246, 28 July 1943, Page 6

THE GIRL IN THE CRIMSON CLOAK.

SERIAL STORY.

A Thrilling Story Centred Round the Activities of a Mysterious Woman.

(Copyright).

(By J. R. WILMOT.)

CHAPTER XXXXVIT

“YOU MUST RETURN!”

Clive Mannisher was exceedingly glad to see him, an emotion that was reciprocated. Gerry contrived to leave them together for a while, and he wandered out into the garden, where he found John and Suzanne. The girl appeared little the worse for her unpleasant experience. The brightness had returned to her eyes, and there was a smile in each of them. “Do you think it can be arranged for Mr Mannisher to return to London?” asked Suzanne, almost eagerly. “I’d so like to see him happy again.” ‘tUncle Gervaise has promised to see the Consular authorities as soon as possible,” Gerry told her, “I suppose you will be returning also?” John Railton had wandered away. “Oh yes, John’s due to recommence his studies next week, and I’ll have to be at hand to look after him again.”

“Yet it was John who looked after us last night,” he reminded her. “John was splendid. If it hadn’t been for John —” A new light kindled in her eyes. “I’m glad you’ve said that,” she told him, eagerly and sincerely. “Coming from you I can regard it as praise indeed.” “Why particularly from me?” “Because you’re a policeman. I told John you w r ere a policeman after we had left the restaurant that night when you fetched me my cloak.” “You told John that? But how on earth did you know?” Suzanne was laughing at him now. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just had a sort of feeling that you were. That’s all.” “It must have been your guilty conscience,” Gerry said, “because I’m sure I don’t look like one, now do I?” Suzanne regarded him critically. “No, I don’t think you do. But hasn’t all this spoiled your holiday?” “Not a bit of it. I’ve rather enjoyed myself. I’d no idea when I went to Leverton Grange to see my uncle and aunt that I’d be involved in anything like this. But I’m glad, very glad. You see, in a way, it’s meant helping you, and I think I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Here’s Mr Mannisher,” Suzanne said, suddenly, turning away from him to where the old man was coming towards them down the garden. “Everything’s fixed, Gerry my boy,” smiled Uncle Clive. “Gervaise is going to see the authorities right away. I’ve just reminded him that my passport should be with my things at Zamboroff’s place.” “Well,” sighed Gerry, “I hate to tear myself away but A] better be popping along to see what my friend Sergeant Forrother is going to do about two people we left in the chalet last night.” Gerry held out his hand to the girl. “Thanks a lot,” he smiled. “You’ve been a brick. I’m glad those scoundrels got nothing out of you.” “You must come and have tea with us one day, Mr Daynton,” she said, quietly. “I’ll be waiting for the invitation,” said Gerry, releasing her hand. Three months later. Christmas time. Two days before Christmas Day. Leverton Grange had been suitably, decorated for the occasion. Aunt Mur- < iel and Gervaise had insisted that Gerry come down and spend Christmas with them. They were inviting a few friends.

There would be Clive, of course, Muriel had invited him to -stay on at the Grange for as long as ever he liked. He’d forgiven Squire, too, al- ' though Muriel considered that Clive had been particularly generous about it. Anyhow, Squire had promised faithfully to do the right thing by his younger brother. He was very penitent.

Gerry was standing on the front porch when Gervaise drove up in his car. He was not alone. Gerry’s eyes goggled. Suzanne and John were in the back. The girl waved a cheery hand as she caught sight of Gerry standing there. He hadn’t expected this.

“Hello,” he said, awkwardly. “It’s ages since I came to tea. How’s everything?” The words sounded trite in Gerry’s ears and he was conscious of his embarrassment. John grinned. He thought lie understood.

Muriel Leverton came out just then, and Gervaise had the job of effecting the necessary introductions. Aunt Muriel was charming, and Avhen Clive Mannisher came in he was almost beside himself with delight. That night Suzanne and Gerry managed to find themselves together for the first time since the girl’s arrival. It was after dinner. Suzanne was curled upon a. divan in the lounge. “How’s the holiday progressing?” she asked,inconsequently. “It might be better,” Gerry confessed from his position also on the divan.

“How so?” “Just a bit lonely, that’s all “When do you return?” “March.” “Looking forward to it ?” “No.”

“Why?” “Oh, hang it!” hurst our Gerry. “Wliat’s the use of all this verbal sparring. You know why.” Suzanne straightened herself and gazed at him with large liquid eyes.' “I? I’m sure I don’t—”

The girl never completed what she was about to say, because Gerry had suddenly crushed her violently to him and pressed his lips on her own. When

he released lier very gently, he said: “You know now, don’t you? I’d just hate to have to go back alone —if ever I do go back.” A frightened look leapt into the girl’s eyes. “But, of course, you must go hack. It’s your work.” “I don’t know much about that.” “But you must! —you must!” Suzanne insisted. “I don’t like people who do nothing. I like people to have a definite purpose in life. That’s why I—like you.” “Good for you. Suzanne! Good for you! ” It was Clive Mannisher’s voice. They had not noticed the old man come into the lounge, and both of them gazed at him embarrassed. Gerry Daynton was smiling as he insinuated an arm around the girl’s waist. “Come along!” he laughed. “Let’s go and tell John lie’ll have to find a new housekeeper.” Suzanne was smiling happily as they left the old man alone. (The End.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.