Wedded and Lost

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXIII, Issue 6498, 10 January 1939, Page 4

Wedded and Lost

By RALPH RODD, ys&ptlbor of "Wltyiperinf Tongues." "Under Fake Colours," Ac. (o\ir reader* jure informed that all characters in this story are purely imaginary, and if the name of any living person happens to be mentioned ho personal reflection is ded.)

SYNOPSIS

One of the most successful fiction writers, Mr Ralph Rodd, in this enr trancing story gives in the opening chapters the heart of the mystery, Deborah King, secretary to Hugh Venning, a well-known scientist, on receipt of a telephone message offering her employer a remunerative commission, goes into the country to a little cottage where Venning i» spending his honeymoon. She finds him distracted, slashing pictures out of their frames! He. declares that he cannot undertake the commission. Venning introduces Deborah to.a caller, Dr. Maurces. as his wife, and declares that she cannot go back to town that night. Later Deborah gets a message from Maurces asking her tQ meet him "in the lane at eleven" She has seen nothing of Mrs Venning, but has heard a mysterious knocking from an upper room. At night she steals out and sees Venning staggering out of the cottage cariiyiipg a hevay burden. He drags it to the edge of a lake and slips it in. Deborah hurries away, and in the darkness falls in with Maurces, who takes her in a motor car to Oaklands, a country house which, though ostensibly a convalescent home for officers is in reality the headquarters of a criminal gang. This, generally speaking, is an outline of the story.

When Deborah King reaches Penny Pot Cottage, the home of Hugh Venning, she finds it so beautiful that Paradise would be a more suitable name, and the preceding instalments show ho f w $he becomes embarassed by the action of Venning slashing pictures from their frames. Deborah's arrival at the cottage W.as evidently somewhat unceremoniously received, and she has many misgivings when a mysterious visitor arrives on the scene in the person of Dr. James Maurees, who wishes the services of Deborah at a nursing home. Venning entirely disagrees with the suggestion and bars the Doctor out with more expedition than tiuite. At the Doctor's departure Deborah disputes Venning's rights, to have introduced her to Maurees as his wife and a little scene ensues, she being merely his secretary. Having finished their meal, Venning introduces his new secretary to her room, which Deborah finds to her dispaay, is, but very poorly equipped. In fact, her whole nerves are set on edge since her arrival at Penny Pot Cottage. She is presented later with a ,cup of tea, the content*, of i which she, had doubts —did it conntai poison? Deborah decides to wait before taking the potion. CHAPTER XVII LARPENT REVEALED "As a matter of fact, that was what I was going to ask you. What do you propose to do?" Drant could not move his hands, but he shrugged his shoulders quite successfully. "In the matter of Larpent?" "Exactly; in the matter of Larpent," Larpent returned. Drant leaned his head back against the padded chair. "Is there any sense in asking?" "Oh yes. Ithink it would be as well for me to know." "I am going to hand him over to the people who have the dirty business of dealing with spies." Larpent flung his head back and laughed. It was not a bitter, makebelieve laugh, but tone of genuine amusement. The poisition was provocative of mirth, for the prisoner was calmly stating what he intended to do with ihis captor—the mouse was announcing how he meant to treat the cat which held it in its maw. Drant pursed his lips. He had a very mobile mouth, and at that, moment it was expressive. "Need I try to explain?" he asked almost shamefacedly. "Is it necessary to point out that, as matters stand to-day. a man hasn't much choice in a case of this kind ? Larpent, the spy, is a danger to this old country of mine; if you'll excuse me saying it, I think he ought to be shot at sight, but since public opinion is against tha.t sort of thing, all one can do is to hand him over to professionals. It doesn't matter a bit whether I'm a society clown or a amateur dStective; the only thing that does matter is. that I'm an Englishman and you're a public danger. See?" Larpent took his pipe from his pocket, filled it and struck a match. "There are cigars in the box," Drant said: but the other took no notice. "Final?" "Oh, absolutely." Larpent's chin was on his chest,

the bowl of his pipe was in his hand, he was smoking moodily. Theodore Drant lay back in hia chair and waited. His brain should have been working at top pressure, and instead it was all but stationary If he lived he must denounce Larpent; therefore Larpent could not afford to let him live. That was as plain as a pike-staff. Death was edging nearer. A persistent begger, Death. Larpent took his pipe from between his teith. "There is just this to be remember - ed," he said, "if I allow you to live and you denounce me, I, of course, JenoMi'-e Hugh Venning." "So involved," Drant murmured. Eut it wasn't really; he knew Uv iVJovs meaning perfectly. "Tkf, that's it," Larpent went ou. Suppose we .rave ♦.Meats alone for the present. You e \ enping's—well. Im hanged if I kv.ow whi!t you - but you're interested in Venning-are you prepared t" h.r-• v HCO thf . asic *t: - ning—and his secretary?"

Nothing in the world should have made Drant start like that; it was inexcusable, but a fact; the last two words and what they meant had come so entirely unexpectedly.

"So you didn't know I had found out about the girl you were with this evening? Just as well, you might have hurried over your parting more il you had been aware of my being an interested spectator." No, he would not mention the other man. "Bit of a surprise for you, eh? And it takes such a lot to surprise the astute Theodore Drant." Larpent made a little clicking sound of impatience —'impatience with himself for wasting time on one unnecessary word. When he went on it was in a matter-of-tfact tone. "I know quite a good deal; you don't suppose Id have run the risk of coming to England unless I meant to find out everything. The girl, Deborah King, was Venning's assistant; just how far she assisted him doesn't matter for the moment; I can find that out when I wish. My mistake was in believing you were working on my lines. I thought you wanted to get to the bottom of the Marlmere business." He struck one hand against the other iiritably. "It never occurred to me that you were interested in protecting those two; if I'd know that, I'd have given you a wide berth, Mr Ttheodore Drant. It's nothing to me what your motives are; all that concerns me is that you are particularly anxious to keep those two out of the limelight. I wonder if you'll be able to do it." Deborah to be implicated, and only that very evening he had been congratulating himself in having thrown Maurees off the scent. Only a few hours ago he had told himself that, no matter what hapened, he was going to safeguard Deborah King. Now the barrier he had built around the little girl was crumbling; it was falling about his ears.

"You'll have no direct evidence against me," Larpent was saying. "My character is what it is, but the English police have no warrant out for me that I know of. I have my reasons for avoiding England, bitter reasons. You might succeed in proving me a spy, you might not. A man may be notorious and yet have contrived to prevent an accumulation of evidence. Even assuming, for the sake of argument. that you do denounce me, there is, at least, the possibility of failure. Do you think there is the same possibility of my failing to make things—well, shall we say unpleasant for those friends of yours?"

It was a moment of dreadful choise. Deborah, the little girl who, in her extremity, had come to him, trusting him with her tale, and Hugh Venning the man he instinctively wanted to save, jointly charged with an atrocious crime. Theodore Drant's big, generous heart stood still. Could he leave them to their fate, those two? If he had had any doubt as to Venning's part the position had been less appalling. He had none at all. "What are your terms?" It was Theodore Drant's confession of defeat. CHAPTER XVIII STRANGE NEWS As Drant turned away, or she presumed he turned awey—wild horses should inot have made hdr glancie over her shoulder—Deboirah turned quickly to mount the many steps which led to the Crow's Nest. Freda opened the door. "Nice hour for a respectable young woman to come back," she said with mock reproof. She had a lighted cigarette in her fingers. "Hope you've had supper; we've eaten most of the fried potatoes." Then she dropped her voice. "Gloomy young person, your new friend; glad, you're come to looik after her a bit." Deborah went into the sitting-room Mary Greenlow sat on a low stool before the fire, her hands clasped o ( n her knees, and for the first time it struck Deborah how young she was and how deep the look off settled gloom on her face. She nodded to her protegee as she took her place at the table. '"Greedy little pigs not to wait! Gredier little pigs to gobble all the taties. Mary confess, that JredaJjupt

them; she always does." ■_ "They were very nice." That was all the visitor said, but her eyes seemed to be saying more. They were fixed on Deborah's face and the latter was conscious of a littl unreasoning sense of irritation, was tired, oh, so tired. "Anyone been?" "Not a soul." >f "There was the postman. the independent remark Mary Greenlow had made. The girl at the table smiled. "He does come sometimes, she remarked, "and Freda burns the letters and says 'They'll have to wait till 118 Mary greenlow had unclasped hexhands and was leaning „ "It wasn't that sort of a lettei, she said "I couldn't help seeing the The third member of the paity had got off the sofa. "Yes, I forgot. There is a lettei for you from old Venning. But you go on with your supper, .duclde. You can t be typing his tosh at this time Deborah put down her knife and fork A letter from Mr Venning. She understood Mary Greenlow's look now. She had forgotten that she was tire . Deborah was gazing at her friend. "Really, Freda, you are too casual for anything! Where is the mysterious letter?"

The girl addressed hunted lazily amongst a pile of fashion papers. "It's somewhere about," she remark ed "Had my hand on it just now. 'Dear Miss King, kindly come to-mor-row at 10.59, instead of 11, if Qurte convenient to you.' Wonder what the old buffer would say if you said it wasn't? Oh, here you are." As she spoke Freda Hill tossed an envelope across the table. "I'll go and put the kettle on if you really want tea, bu 'aqua pura' is much better for your nerves and much less trouble." Must be nice to be a man; whisky and soda, and next to no washing up." But neither of the others even heard her. Deborah was reading her letter, yet even as she did so she knew that Mary Greenlow's eyes were fixed on her face. "If you will read the enclosed before sealing the envelope you will see what I have said to my brother. Take the letter to him at once"—please" had been added as an after thought and doubly underlined. "He will provide you with passports and money!" Deborah's eyes had been wide before; they were wider open than ever now. Passports and money! "Then I want you to travel as unobtrusively as possible to France, go by Newhaven and Dieppe. At the Hotel de l'Univers there ask for Mary Greenlow's late employer, who will take you both to her home near Avignon. Wait there until I come. Destroy this lettei. Am I asking too much of my friend?" j There was no signature. Deborah I scarcely noticed the omission, since j no one in the world knew Hugh Venning's writing better than his secretary. She opened the second envelope and read: "Dear Ginger—lt is important that my little secretary, Deborah King, and my poor Paula's maid, Mary Greenlow. should travel to the latter's home in France at once I was called away suddenly, as you will have heard from the servants. Get them passports quickly and give them twenty pounds; there's a good chap.—Hughie." It all sounded so unreal, or rather it was its very reality which was so very .difficult to grasp. The very expressions, even the names, made Deborah wonder whether she read them aright. "Hughie," her grave Mr Venning. Worse still, "Gingei*" the Right Honourable Sir Claude, who was to be "a good chap" in order to expedite the journey of "the little secretary. "What does he say ? Tell me. What does he say?" Deborah stiffened. It was not the way in which the girl ought to- speak. She was sorry for her, and she was as determined as ever to do anything Mr Venning wanted, but that was not to say that " And then she saw her protegee's expression and her heai't softened. "We are to go to France." "Dieu merci!" Mrs Venning's Englih maid ejaculated under her breath. The words were breathed so low that Deborah only just caught them, but she saw the hands clasped together with a gesture of intense relief. Words and movement alike awoke her generous sympathy; it made her forget her momentary disapproval. After all, she and Mary Greenlow had one thing in common, they had both concealed the truth and were prepared to go on concealing it, if by so doing they could protect Hugh Venning from the ;consequeinces of what had happened at Marlmere.

"Here's your dish of tay, my child. Did nursie never teach you not to eat so fast? Type fast, eat slowly, that's the rule for the successful little clerk." "I've got to go out again," Deborah remarked irrelevantly. "Gallivanting, that's: what I call iti Old Venning has only bought your time from eleven to four, with occasionally a little work at home 'if quite convenient.' There is nothing about running out at this hour in the bond. I've got to keep the Crow's Nest respectable." "Freda don't rag. This is important." "Oh, rubbish," Miss Hill was selecting a fresh cigarette. "'Nine o'clock is striking, mother may I go out, Mr young man is waiting to take me all about." she chanted. "In modern parlance to the cinema." "Try not to be vulgar, before a visitor at any rate." Deborah retorted and taking the cigarette from herfriends fingers, made as she

was ging to throw it in the fire, then, economy getting the better of her, she put it back in the box. "I am going-to see a man," she said,, "though he's not young, they call him Sir. Claude Venning " Mary Greenlow's face altered, anxiety had come back. "How's that for glory" Freda remarked. She really Was interested now. "Ask him if he'd like to be put in a fashion plate—'Our Fur-lined Coats as worn by Eminent Statesmen' " "And then I am going to cross to France with Mary." Miss Hill gasped, but she wasn't going to show surprise more than she could help. "Notice how the skirts are cut in Paris, she urged. "And I want you to pack my coat and rig Mary up for the journey. I don't know anything about trains, but we might have to start at once." "My wardrobe is quite at your friend's service. Is there any other bit of news; because I'd prefer to have it all at once? Surprises every five minutes make me jumpy." Deborah turned at the door. "No," she said. "I think that'll do to go on with." She tried to speak lightly, and she made a little grimace at Fredsd in quite her old way before she went to prepare for her errand. Theodore Drant had told himself that the little girl whose wellbeing had suddenly become of so much importance to him was safe for that night, at any rate, in her eyrie a - mongst the chimney-pots. He would have met Larpent on even worse terms than he did had he known that Deborah King was so. soon to venture from the Crow's Nest. (To be,. (&nsnusJ)

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