NIGHT TIDE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 64, Issue 34, 19 November 1943, Page 6

NIGHT TIDE

SERIAL STORY. A Romantic Story of a Great Seaport.

(Copyright). (J. R. WiLMOT).

CHAPTER XX. JOHN’S UNCONTROLLABLE TERROR. Miss Fillinger had met Shirley’s quick questioning about John on her arrival with a smile which conveyed nothing more to Shirley than the fact that her brother was safe at home. John rose from his chair at the sight of Shirley’s indignant eyes as she entered the room with Miss Fillinger behind her. “I’m sorry, Sis,” he began, “but I did try to find you . . . I’m not just imagining things.” Shirley sat down on the divan and pulled off her gloves. “Do you mean to say that you’ve been to The Crescent to-night?” she demanded, and there was a;; ring of annoyance in her voice now? that she knew John was safe. John Macadam nodded. “Yes,” he said, “and I stayed there just long enough to know that the place wasn’t healthy for me. Miss Fillinger will tell you what I mean.” John was obviously rattled at his sister’s attitude. Shirley looked across at Miss Fillinger with eyes wide as saucers. “What does it all mean?” she asked, bewildered. Miss Fillinger stepped into the breach.

“It means, my dear, that there’s no cause for you to be angry with John,” she began. “Perhaps it means more than that. You see when John went to keep that appointment with you to-night he says he saw someone in the restaurant he didn’t particularly wish to meet . . . someone he never expected for one moment to see there

. . . the one man in the whole world of whom John is afraid. I’ve tided my best to persuade him that it’s all nonsense, but I can’t convince him. Martin has just been telling him that, too.”

Shirley’s eyes moved slowly from Miss Fillinger’s face to her brother’s, and for the first time she noticed that there was fear written on that face. “You mean the man from America?” she asked, in a quieter voice.

“That’s it,” confirmed her brother. “I couldn’t have stayed in that place a moment longer for all the jobs in Liverpool. I just had to get out, and what’s more I've got to clear out of Liverpool, too. If I don’t,” he added, darkly, “I have a feeling that you won’t see fne any more.”

"Now you are talking rubbish,' broke in Miss Fillinger.

“I wish you’d say something to convince him, Shirley,” said Martin, whose eyes were troubled. “It may be true what John says, that this man is in Liverpool, but it can’t be as bad as John’s trying to make us believe. Things such as he is suggesting just don’t happen ... not here at any rate.”

Shirley was thoughtful for a moment while John, who had re-seated himself, stared moodily into the *fire. Then Shirley leaned forward. “Let’s get this thing straight,” she began, in a calm, business-like way. “You say you went to ‘The Crescent’ and you saw this man there. Where did you see him? Was he in the restaurant? And if so, just where was he sitting?”

John Macadam turned to face his sister.

“I stood in the doorway of the restaurant looking for you, as I have said. *1 gazed about without seeing you, but opposite me over against the wall on my right at about an angle of thirty degrees I saw him. He was at one of the small tables and he was talking to someone. I couldn’t see who it was because someone was in the way. I guessed it must be a woman. He’s that sort.”

Shirley was again silent. Then she continued: “We’ve got to face up to this thing, John. I’ve got to be satisfied that it’s not anything more than sheer hysteria. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve told us, but I’m thinking that your life in America has given you the jumps. You can’t yet realise that this is England, the safest country in the world, and that it is probably for that reason that your Private Enemy Number One is over here also. Please, John, are you going to pull yourself together?” John Macadam stared wildly at his sister as she spoke. As she ended he jumped from his chair and faced them his hands clenched.

“I tell you it’s not a matter of pulling myself together. I've been a fool. I should never have stayed in Liverpool . . . never have come here. I’m clearing out to-night. D’you hear . . . to-night. I’m not safe . None of you’s safe. I'd do better in London . . that’s it, London. London’s bigger than ..Liverpool . . . it’ll he harder for him to find me. What time is it, Martin?” Martin had jumped up, too, and lie crossed over to the trembling figure of John Macadam.

“Don’t be a fool,” he almost shouted. “You can’t go anywhere to-night. In the morning, perhaps, when we’ve decided what you’re do. Now sit down, there’s a good fellow, and look at things sensibly. Can’t you see you’ve upset Shirley?”

“That’s all right,” said Shirley, casting a grateful look up at Martin. “I j think I understand,’ and perhaps John’s right. We must all try and act for the best,” and turning to hexbrother: “Martin’s right, John. You can’t do anything to-night.” “Of course you can’t,” agreed Miss Pillinger. “Too act without due thought would be the most dangerous thing possible.” John Macadam grew calmer and listened to Shirley’s suggestion that first thing in the morning she would telegraplwto a friend of hers in London inquiring whether she could fix John up at her house until something

wins arranged. John liked the idea. He still felt he would be safer in London. But Miss Fillinger did not want to lose him, because Miss Fillinger liked John Macadam, and besides, she had her own plans. “I must be getting home,” she apologised, “Daddy will be sending out an S O S.” “I’ll come across with you,” suggested Martin, hopefully. “Just as far as the ’bus station, please, Martin. I shall be quite all right,” answered Shirley. So Martin had to be content with that. On the way he put a question to her. “Would you think me very rude, Shirley, if I asked you who it was you wanted John to meet to-night?” “Not in the least,” laughed Shirley. “It was Mr Blake — a friend of father’s.” “Thanks,” murmured Martin. . ('To be Continued).