A PAIR OF BLUE EYES.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 136, 10 June 1936, Page 21

A PAIR OF BLUE EYES.

LAWRENCE DYSON, brilliant research chemist by profession, adventurer by nature, stood on the pavement outside the vast, granite-faced building which contained the manifold enterprises of Lerroyds, Ltd., manufacturers of chemical products. Squaring his shoulders, he walked up the broad steps, through the bronze doorway, to the chromium-plated gates of the lift. The cage purred softly to the fourth floor and disgorged him into a long corridor, at the er.d of which lay his goal—a door bearing the talismanic words: E. V. CHALLONER, Director, PERSONNEL. Dyson tapped and was bidden to enter. He obeyed. The solo occupant of the room where he found himself was Miss Gadney. Pale, impassive, ageless, she guarded the right-of-way to Mr. Challoner's more inaccessible fastness. "Good morning, Miss Gadney," ventured Dyson. "Miss Gadney blinked. "Good morning, Mr. Dyson," she answered. There was a silence. "Is Mr. Challoner in his office?" he asked. . Hesitation: "Yes." "Could I see him for a moment?" Miss Gadney looked at him, rose from her desk and disappeared into the inner shrine. A few moments later, she emerged, a trifle paler. "Sorry, Mr. Dyson," she said. "Mr. Challoner can't see you. Perhaps you'd better write." Dyson's lips tightened. "Miss Gadviey," he began. "I must have a word with Mr. Challoner. I don't mind how long I wait, but I must see him. Will you please go back and tell him that." Miss Gadney stared at him. To go back to Mr. Challoner when once he had

said "No" was, in the world* of Lerroyds, Ltd., something which did not occur. Yet Dyson's suggestion was so unexpected, so audacious that it overcame her, spreading,over her will and brain, eating away the years of discipline, custom and experience which had encased her like the rigid compressing bones of an old-fashioned corset. She expanded, she smiled. More important for Dyson, she vanished again into Mr. Challoner's room, this time to return still paler but with a note of triumph in her voice. "You can go in," she said. » • • • Mr. Challoner had been as staggered by Miss Gadney's reappearance as Miss Gadney had been overwhelmed by Dyson's desperate- request. But the sight of Dyson standing before him jerked him rudely to a sense of realities. "What do you want?" he demanded. Dyson gripped the rim of his hat. "I wondered," he said haltingly, •-"if perhaps there was a cbance .that there might be a place in the old department for me." Challoner drew himself up in his chair. "Dyson," he said grimly, "1 ought to take you by the scruff of your neck and kick you out of here." "Let me explain," interrupted Dyson. "Explain what?" thundered Challoner. "Your ingratitude to me and to the firm? Ten years ago, I gave you the opportunity to enter our research department. I helped you all I could because I believed in you. You worked there one year and vanished into thin air for another four. "Wanderlust, you called it. Then you came back without a penny in your pocket and with your toes sticking out of your boots. And what did I do? Like a darned simpleton, I said, 'All right, Dyson, I'll give you another chance.' "And what did you do? You worked another year and pulled the same trick all over again. I haven't seen or heard of you for heaven knows how long when you turn up in my office and have the confounded impudence to ask if there's room in the department for you. I've never heard anything like it! It's colossal! It takes my breath away. It really does." And it literally did, for he; leaned back in his chair quite exhausted. Dyson seized his opportunity. "Mr. Challoner," he said with sincerity, "I couldn't help going off the way I did; It was something in my blood that took hold of me. But.l.swear to you that I'm a different man. It happened the moment I looked into her blue eyes." "Whose blues eyes?" demanded Challoner. ! "Natalie's—the girl I'm going to :marry." "Heaven help her," murmured Challoner.

(SHORT STORY.)

(By Michael Romain.)

Dyeon smiled. "Let me tell you about it. You remember, years ago, I produced a range of blue dyes for you. Well, there was one shade I wanted to get , , but couldn't —that marvellous blue which you see in southern seas. "I was walking along a Shanghai, street when I caine face to face with Natalie. The moment I looked into her eyes, I was a changed man. Those eyes were the colour of southern seas, and in them there was a message for me. It read: 'Lawrence Dyeon, there is a paradise on earth which, like a blind fool, you've passed by. It is the paradise of a woman's eyes and a woman's smile; the paradise of home and hearth and child. , I turned and followed her to her hotel. I could not go in after her, for my clothes were dirty and I was unehaven. "There was a Chinese merchant who considered himself in my debt. I had done him a email service when an armed bandit stopped him on the road. I sought him out and explained what had happened. He lent me some money so that I could go to Natalie as one of her kind. That night, I met her. She did not recognise me, for I was clean and shaven. "A week later, Natalie and her mother sailed for England) and, thanks to my Chinese friend, I went with them. We were in love from the very beginning." "How much does she know about you?" asked Challoner. '"Nothing of what you know," answered Dyson quickly. "I made myeelf out to be a steady, hard-working follow who was taking his iirst holiday abroad." He einiled. "I wasn't without temptations. There was a bunch of Yankees on board who were telling the most ghastly lies about places they said they'd boon to. But I kept my mouth closed and listened and said, 'How wonderful,' juiit like everyone else. Believe me, Mr. Challoner, I've finished with the old life. 1 mean to settle down, get married and stick to my job. To-day, Natalie and her mother are visiting some friends in the country. To-morrow, they come back to town. Mr. Cliallouer, I'm not

pleading for myself only. It's for Natalie, too. Please help us to our happiness." • * • • There was a silence. Challoner breathed down his nose and reflected. "Dyson," he said, "I admit that you're a useful man in your particular epherc. You proved that during the two years you were with us. If I were to give you another chance, what guarantee would I have that you wouldn't go off at a tangent just as you did before?" "Mr. Challoner," answered Dyson, "I give you my word that I'll work for you as long as you want me." "Even for seven years?" "Seventy, if you like!" he exclaimed. Challoner pressed a bell, and Miss Gadney appeared. "Bring me one of our contract forms," he ordered. "Yes, Mr. Challoner." She went out. "Now understand this, Dyson," said Challoner. "I'm taking you back entirely on my own responsibility. I'm not monarch of all I survey in this company. With your record, 1 shall have to face the board of directors and pledge uiy own word that you won't let us down as you did before." "Don't worry," murmured Dyson. "I won't." $ The contract was brought in and duly completed. Challoner held out his hand. "When shall I start," asked Dyson. "Aβ soon as you like." "Nine o'clock to-morrow morning will suit me," answered Dyeon. "Mr. Challoner, I, don't know how to thank yu." ,* * * ■ • ■ Dyson could have wept with relief. If Challoner had failed him, if he had been compelled to start looking for work when Natalie believed that his position and his future were assured . . . with a shudder, he thrust these suppositions aside. To-morrow, Natalie returned to town, and they could make arrangements for the wedding. Ho went back to the small hotel where he was staying, and spent the rest of the day quietly. The following morning >O was ready to leave at a quarter past eight. There was a letter waiting for him in the lobby of his hotel —a letter from Natalie. He did not linger to read it now, but hurried on his way, for he was anxious to be punctual on his first morning. At ten minutes to nine, he emerged into the upper air. Lerroyds was close at hand, so he took out Natalie's letter, and, as he walked along the pavement, opened and read it: "My dear, dear Lawrence," she had written, "I don't know how to begin this letter." Dj'eon smiled happily; bless her heart! "I am afraid that what I have to say will come as a shock to you." Dyson frowned; his heart quickened. "Lawrence, dear, I don't think I could . be really happy with you. Your posi- '

tion is too safe, too assured, and I'm afraid I want adventure and excitement. I want to'eee the world and not settle down to what might become a humdrum existence. Please, please forgive me, Lawrence dear, and try to understand. I was married to-day to Wilbur van Railton. You remember him, one of the Americans who was on the boat with us. We're spending our honeymoon travelling. . . ." Dyson, gasped in horror. Natalie had married one of the lying, pseudo-globe-trotting Yankees, and he, Lawrence Dyson, the great adventurer, wae walking into the shadow of Lerroyds' from nine till one, and two till six, day after day, year after year. Someone slapped him on the back. "Good heavens! If it isn't Dyson! Man alive, what are you doing here?" "Doing?" echoed Dyson grimly. "I'm doing soven years, for a pair of blue eyes."