Serial Story: ADVENTURE FOR TWO

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 66, Issue 197, 3 June 1946, Page 6

Serial Story: ADVENTURE FOR TWO

(Copyright).

BY HOLLOWAY HORN

CHAPTER VII. BETTER NEWS “I remember. They used to live in that house on the other side of the hill.” “You know, Male is very clever m his way. Modern patter stuff. I think I can do it almost as well, though, and he makes a decent living out of it.” “Modern patter stuff?” she repeated. “Topical songs. Writes them himself and sings them at Masonic banquets and such places. He was doing jolly well. He was in great demand at Cambridge, and I really think, without undue modesty, I’m every bit as good.” “Anyway, he called to see you and left his card. There it is.” Rossiter read the card she handed to him: “He’s living in town, then,” he said. , . “So he told me. In a flat with Ins mother. Life in a flat always seems to me to be rootless, Barney.” “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he smiled. “Still, Im glad old Male looked me up. And I don’t think I shall bother about the Outlaws.” “I certainly shouldn’t,” said EEllen. * *

Rossiter’s holiday in Germany that, year was a failure. He did the usual things—which would have amused him on an ordinary visit hut his father’s death and the uncertainty ot his immediate future overshadowed him He had several German friends, but the political situation appeared to obsess them; they were taciturn ancl depressed; and although they insisted that it was not the English they disliked, Rossiter failed entirely to recapture the charm of his earlier visit. Perhaps it was his fault; one should not attempt to recapture a memory. At the end of ten days he decided to return to London, and the uvo hours he had to spend in Ostend waiting for the boat were very depressing ones. The garish front irritated him unreasonably,, and he- was glad to get away. He had decided to spend the week-end in London as Ellen, in any case, did not expect him back until the following week. He dined in a little Russian restaurant behind Piccadilly Circus, where the food is both cheap and interesting, and pondered over the changes that awaited him in Mossford. He realised with disquietening clearness that, m effect, he would-be Ellen’s guest. It was obviously up to him to get a job at once. Any job, he decided. Afterwards he went to a cinema, but the films were American, ancl poor stuff after the pictures he had se?n in Berlin. Altogether he was m a very disgruntled frame of mind when he sought .the moderately-priced but excellent hotel in Leicester Square where he had taken a room. Life can be very black when one is young. • lie looked out from the window ot his room into the Square._ The. skysi.nts were shrieking their messages untiringly. At the far side people were moving lip and down as untiringly as the sty-signs; everywhere va r , movement, restlessness. He had never felt so intensely along in his life. Lt was a depressing hour, but p:ulli is refu.ient, and depression can to cast aside with the morning. That is where youth scores; every awakening may be the prelude to adventure. It was a Saturday morning, and Rossiter decided to walk down to Bedford Row on the off-chance of finding one or other of the Whipples in their fusty office. London is a pleasant place on a spring morning, unless one is hungry, and Rossiter knew that in spite ot the catastrophe he was a long way from that. Was' it Voltaire who said that man can stand anything if he have but bread? . . . . Rather to his surprise lie found that the senior partner was in. . “Hallo, Barney!” the grey-haired solicitor greeted him. “It’s a long time since I saw you. Sit down, my boy.” “A long time, sir.” “I was deeply shocked by your father’s death, Barney. Still, when one has been in the law for half a century one becomes almost familiar with death, as it were. As far, that as one ever becomes familiar with it.” The old man, Rossiter noticed, was upset and nervous. It was unlike him to waste words. “I hear you saw Paul a week or so ago?” he said, suddenly. “Yes.”

. 4 ‘Well, we’ve been going into your affairs, Barney, and they aren’t too promising, I’m afraid. Not too promising.” “I’d gathered that, sir.” “There will be just under a thousand when everything is settled up. Everything will be paid, as your father would have insisted.” “You mean a thousand free ol debt . . . mine, as it were?”

“Frankly that is more than I anticipated. It looked 1o me like a complete and utter smash. Poor old Dad!” “The actual figure is. not yet ascertained. It will be very near to nine hundred and eighty pounds. If your dear father had retired twenty years ago he would have died a wealthy man. That’s the tragedy of it all. I saw it coming and urged him to do so. But he was a difficult man to influence.” “He was a fine man. What he did, he did for the best.”

“1 agree, wholly. I did not see eye to eye with him on certain transactions, and events, unhappily, have proved I was right, but I yield to none in my respect and affection for John Rossi ter.” “Thank you, sir.”

“What are you going to do? A thousand is not a great deal, as you know. Used wisely it is useful, of course, but . , . ”

“I intend to get a job, sir.” “You have a degree in languages, f remember your father telling me.” “Modern languages, sir.” “You know, Barney, if there’s anything I can do, I should be delighted. I know -several headmasters, for example.” “You’re very good, sir. I’d thought of the stage, however. I’ve got a knack of singing and dancing. It’s in my blood, I think. I did rather a lot in an amateur way at Cambridge.”

“Your mother was a dancer.” “Was she? I never knew that . . .” he said, in surprise. “She would have gone a long way if she. had stuck to it. But she loved your father, and gave up her career for him.” “Funny father never mentioned it. But then lie praclically never did speak of tier. He never got over tier death.” 0 “No. It was in this very room that she met him. I introduced them—nearly a quarter of a century ago. Strange

how things happen, Barney. By the way, what am l to do with the money when affairs are finally settled up?” “Send me a cheque, I suppose. Don’t worry,” Rossi ter added with a smile. “I shan't blow it!” “You all right for ready money?” “Only just.” “Better have a cheque then. Let me know, won’t you, what you are doing. Keep in touch!” “Rather, sir.” “And don’t forget if there’s anything I can do, Barney.” “Thank you. sir. I shan’t hesitate to avail myself of your kindness.” He walked hurriedly along once, he had left the fusty office. A thousand! Well, he knew bow he stood, that was something. Tie had an education about as good as money could provide and a thousand pounds. And void li! (To be continued.)