NIGHT TIDE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 64, Issue 33, 18 November 1943, Page 6

NIGHT TIDE

SERIAL STORY. A Romantic Story of a Great Seaport.

(Copyright). (J. R. WILMOT).

CHAPTER XIX. A MESSAGE FOR BLAKE. “You’re very quiet to-night, Shirley? Is the food so good that yau can’t spare me a word?” inquired Blake, chidingly. “I was thinking,” she replied. “As a. matter of fact, I’m worried over John. I’m thinking that perhaps something might have happened to him.” “You mean he might have happened to have an accident?” “Something like that,” said Shirley. “You musn’t get morbid,” he told her. “Perhaps your brother has a more interesting and profitable appointment.” “If he has,” exclaimed Shirley, in* dignantly, “he’s due for a slice of my mind.” “I’ll bet he is,” laughed Blake, noting the sharp edge to the girl’s voice. At that moment another waiter arrived bearing a note for Blake. “The gentleman is waiting below, sir. If there is an answer . . .” Shirley watched wonderingly as her companion slit open the envelope. The man’s face was expressionless. Just like a chrome mask, she thought. “If you would excuse me a moment, Shirley,” Blake apologised, pushingback his chair. “I don’t know why people can’t keep business inside the limits of office hours.” Shirley smiled her consent and watched Blake stride swiftly and with confident tread between the group of tables between their own and the doorway opposite. Blake ran lightly down the softlypadded staii'case to the ornate vestibule. Just within the swing doors a man awaited him. He was a tall, thin man with a lined face and small, rather furtive eyes. “You’re quite sure of this?” asked Blake, quietly, tapping the envelope in his hand. “I’d know Stevens anywhere,” confirmed the tall man. “Why he nearly knocked me down less than twenty minutes ago. Running hell for leather he was towards the Water Street Underground.” “Then why in hell’s name didn’t you follow him,” knapped Blake. “Must I always be surrounded by a pack of crimson fools?” The tall man made no reply. “Better keep your eyes open,” went on Blake, “and next time you see him, you’ll know what to do. Here’s the key of the office. Wait for me there. I’ll be along before ten.” The man took the Yale key that was handed to him and without another word turned on his heels. When Blake returned to the restaurant, Shirley noticed that he looked troubled. “I hope there’s nothing wrong,” she ventured. “It’s frightfully annoying to be bothered with business when you’re off duty.” “Damned annoying,” he agreed. “I don’t mind the business so much, but I hate leaving you alone, even for a moment.”

“Please don’t bother about me,” Shirley told him, pleaded at the sudden compliment.

“But that’s just what I do. You see,” he continued, easily, “I was thinking of taking you along to a theatre after we’d had some food . . .

your brother as well, but that’s not possible now. I’ve got to get back to the office in an hour or two.”

Shirley felt disappointed. But when the meal had ended and John had not put in an appearance, she was glad that Garvin Blake had to return to his office.

“Do you mind if I stay and listen to the orchestra for a while?” she asked. “And if John has. been delayed and turns up, perhaps I could bring him along.” “Certainly, my dear. You do just whatever you like. But I don’t expect I’ll be at the office later than midnight,” he added, laughingly. Shirley gave him twenty minutes, by which time she felt Garvin Blake would be back in The Building. Then she left the restaurant and made her way by the underground railway to Birkenhead. All her initial fears had flooded in on her mind again and she felt that there would be no rest for her that night until she had gone across to find out what had happened to John.

As Shirley left the restaurant, the mist was still heavy about the citv streets,, but perhaps that was just as well, for it helped to conceal the movements of the man who detached himself from the grey shadows of a nearby doorway and followed her down to the subway. In fact the man was behind her when she booked a return ticket. He was in the same railway carriage that she entered. He was close behind her when she emerged from the station on the other side of the river and he was seated on the opposite seat to her on the omnibus that took her to a point close to Miss Fillinger’s house. It was half past nine when Miss Fillinger opened the door to Shirley, and Miss Fillinger was in no way surprised to see her. It was one of the natural and logical things that had occurred td Miss Fillinger’s mind. She had worked it out quite well and assumed, that Shirley would have dined and, not having met her brother, would come across to inquire the reason. Martin had returned home only a few minutes before Shirley’s arrival, and the girl found him and John seated one one either side of a cosy fire, both men sunk into the comfortable upholstery of the arm-chairs. (To be Continued).