The IRL in the TRAILER

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 12799, 21 July 1939, Page 3

The IRL in the TRAILER

|SYLVIA V CARSON ’

CHAPTER X -Stop that!” Jerry yelled angrily, lumping to his feet and cracking the n of l" s head against the veiling, ■■you can't do that. What’s the Idea?” ... , , H e was lunging forward when Mercedes caught his arm and said sweetly: “Don’t he foolish, darling. Can’t you see it’s the press?” She posed with a long-handled fork held aloft in her right hand, her left arm creeping about Jerry, just as-a second picture was snapped. “I don’t care who they are,” Jerry burst out, pulling away from Merges’ restraining arm. ‘‘They haven’t any business coming here and taking pictures like this.”

“Hold it, Buddy,” one young man exclaimed. ‘‘Your public is going to ]o ve these pictures of the joys of trailering. A good-looking gal to make your coffee and fry your eggs! A lot of people are going to think you’re foolish to give this up for a Kentucky estate.” Completely bewildered, Jerry went toward the rear door. Another chap Intercepted him. "I’ m Nat Holmes, leg-man for the Gazette. 'These boys are from the other papers, and we want a statement. Your name is .Crandon, isn’t it? Jerry Crandon? Son of Gerald Crandon from Ashton, Kentucky.” “My name is Jerry Crandon, I haven’t claimed to be the son of Ger,old Crandon. There’s some mistake.” "Don’t believe him, boys,” came Mercedes’ indignant young voice from the doorway behind him. ‘‘He’s just modest and doesn’t want publicity. He’s the Missing Heir, all right.”

Jerry understood it at last. He whirled on Mercedes accusingly. ‘‘You’re the one who telephoned the papers!” "Sure. Why not? I knew you wouldn't do it.” Mercedes stepped down on the ground beside him. “It’s on your own head,” Jerry raged. “What do you think your grandfather will say when he sees your picture in the paper, cooking ray breakfast?” “Oh, he’ll growl about disgracing the Weatherford name, 1 ” she said candidly. “But he’ll get over it.” “Weatherford?” exclaimed Nat Holmes. “Are you old Judge Weatherford’s granddaughter? Oh boy, what a story! The judge is backing this man’s claim to the Crandon estate, eh?”

"Everybody shut up!” Jerry yelled as the other reporters crowded up eagerly. “You’re all wrong about everything. I’m not a missing heir. Judge Weatherford doesn’t think so, «ud he isn’t backing any such ridiculous claim. He ran out out of his bouse last night and told me not to come back,”

"Don’t believe a word he says, Mercedes said calmly when 'kny paused to get his breath. "Grandpa is acting as Mr Crandon’s legal representative.” Jerry turned on her in tight-lipped anger. “You’ll just cause an awful ®ess with all your interference. You Heed to be spanked!” Get this, Joe,” Nat Holmes callad to his photographer. “Heir to Graiulon fortunes paddles local beauty re Puted to be his fiancee.” . Jerry, stopped and turned away from Mercedes, who stood her ground with an impish smile. “Be reasonable, fellows,” he begged. “Go °a away and let me straighten this *ng out. There’s not a word of ruth in any of it. and I’ll—l’ll sue y ° 11 for libel if you print any of those stories. 11 ■ -

can’t keep a story like this J n '[ er ' >' o ur hat,” Nat Holmes adJ 5 * 1 him kindly. “Every paper in ltl Sta^e ave some version of > evening. You’d do . better to us the facts rather than haVe a version printed.” in</ m sivins: y° u the facts,” Jerry jsted heatedly. “My name is Jerv *9,my first trip, to Kentucky.” an*d. at olmes shipped out a pad **n« egan taking down notes. your occupation?”' - .I-write.". ,v eolo, ° r ’ eh! " That makes good searh v trusg hxig young author‘in c haa° 0t atmos Ph ere stumbles " by; Pan, Ce Upon lost heritage. Swell. a i hep, 8 name?” don’t know.” P^cfi 11168 ° h - wed ' the/ end ■of 'his *‘Wh t stu died Jerry keenly, d ° you mean—you .don't.

ed I don’t.. I’ye been an i.g s * nce babyhood.” ' Pily 6e ( ere ?" said Mercedes hap--1 told you so. You might as

well say your father was Gerald Crandon and be done with it.” ‘‘But I don’t know that he was.”

‘‘Humph!” Holmes frowned. ‘‘No relics of your childhood? Trinkets? Playthings?” ‘‘No. There’s nothing at all. That is—”

Jerry paused, his jaw sagging, a strange light in his eyes. ‘‘What is it?” Mercedes had hold of one arm and was jumping up and down in her excitement.

‘T—don’t know,” said Jerry slowly. ‘‘Probably nothing important. But I just remembered ” ‘‘Aha!” said Holmes triumphantly. ‘‘The plot thickens.” He sing-songed, again: ‘‘Believed to be victim of amnesia, the mystery man early ■ this morning had a lu'cid interval, during which there came to him the startling recollection of —what?” he appealed to Jerry. Jerry shook his head firmly. “I’m not going out on a limb with any statement I’m not sure I can prove. You’ll have to give me a little time.” “And your coffee and bacon are getting cold,” Mercedes exclaimed. “I’ll slip inside .and warm them up for you, while you finish telling them' your life story.” “I’ve told it all,” Jerry confessed lamely as Mercedes went into the trailer. “This has all been a complete surprise to me,” he went on with a disarming grin, “and I do hope you fellows will play it down until I can get my bearings.” “What about Miss Weatherford?” Nat demanded. “Are you engaged?” “No,” Jerry denied. “She’s simply shown me neighbourly kindness since I’ve been parked here.”

The sound- of pounding hoof-beats interrupted the conversation. It was Blake Feaster, galloping up on a lathered mount. He seemed to recognise the reporters, for he bellowed 1 : .

“Hello, Nat. Don’t listen to anything that imposter says. I know the Crandon heir and I’ll produce him at the right time.” CHAPTER XI ‘ Nat Holmes, reporter, said: “The plot really does begin to thicken. Can I quote you on that, Feaster?” “You certainly may.” Blake Feaster swung off his horse and advance 1 ed toward the group. “I heard this fellow claiming last night he was the heir to the Crandon estate,” Blake said. “I happened to know about it, so I got busy! I’m ready to spike his guns properly. While Blake had been speaking/, Jerry moved backward to the trailer where he casually closed the rear door and sat down on the upper step with his shoulders against the door. Filling his pipe, he watched Blake speculatively, as Nat asked: “Where is the Crandon ybu’re talking about, Feaster? Why hasn’t he come forward s before this to claim the estate?” “Never mind that. He’ll he on hand when the time comes. And if this guy here shows up at all, he’ll probably get himself thrown in jail on charges of false pretence and fraud.” He shot Jerry an angrv glance. - “This Crandon has already said he has no intention of claiming the estate,” Nat told Blake. “But Miss Weatherford said —”

“Don’t pay any attention to what she says,” grated Blake. “I’ni authorised to speak for my fiancee and I can say right now that both she and her grandfather realise this man is a rank imposter. He came sneaking in her© and got into her good graces—

Jerry stood, up. He said; “Keep Mercedes out of this, Peaster.” “Who says so?” Blake stepped toward Jerry, his jaw jutting.

“I do!” Jerry stepped closer, fists swinging loosely by his sides. Emboldened by the presence of others, Blake snarled, “Looking for trouble, eh?” and lunged forward with flailing fists.

Jerry coolly sidestepped and slapped him a backhanded blow across the cheek as lie rushed past. Blake tried to stop, stumbled and went down in an ingnominous heap. .The long blade of a- pocketknife gleamed in the-sunlight; when he came to his feet' There was a loud gasp from the watching reporters and a scream from Mercedes who had opened the trailer door. « Jerry stood his ground until the last second, evaded a knife-thrust by inch'es and planted a solid looping 1 right against the side of Blake’s jaw. . Blake went to his knees, stagger-

ed up with a curse, took another blow high on his right cheek and sat down suddenly, all the fight taken out of him. Holmes jerked the knife from his hand as he sat there, turned to Jerry and said: “I’m afraid Feaster isn’t quite himself this morning, Mr Crandon. I hope you won’t get the wrong idea of Kentucky gallantry from this incident.” Jerry shrugged his shoulders. I’m getting used to him. He threatened m© with a shotgun last night.” He turned just in time to catch Mercedes as she rushed into his arms, sobbing, “I was s-so frightened. I thought he was g-going to k-kill

you.” Jerry laughed and gently disengaged the girl’s arms from about his neck. ' “I’m too tough to be killed so easily” he reassured her. “You’d better run on now.” Blake was struggling to his knees, peering at Mercedes disbelievingly. “Where did you com© from?” he growled. She told him. “I heard what you said about speaking for me. It’s not true,- about me being your fiancee and about Grandad thinking Jerry an imposter. Grandad is going to represent him in court.” - >“He won’t after he hears what . I have-‘to tell s him. And I’m warning you, right now that if you expect to become Mrs Feaster you’ll 'conduct yourself in a more ladylike manner..”: (To' be Continued) - • r