“THE MISCHIEF MAKER”

Manawatu Times, Volume 60, Issue 232, 2 October 1935, Page 7

“THE MISCHIEF MAKER”

(By ALAN GREY)

Instalment 6.

lie has cleared' off.” Eflle was silent for a moment. She was wondering how she could thank him, for Cunningham was one of those men who at the first sign of gratitude, or any other such “extravagance,” would become crusty 'to the point of rudeness. ; ■ “I don’t -like him," she said, “Don't blame you,” curtly. And then, feeling perhaps that he was unfair to Vane, he added, “He’s not a bad sort as men go, quite amusing and clever—stand him in mild doses. He’s popular—never known him do a mean trick—that Is, where men are concerned."

knowing the difference? He’s a perfect dear and wouldn't harm anyone.” “All right, all right," said Michael, soothingly. "You can count on nio for any help. You know that, don’t you?” , . “You mustn’t be mixed up in It, Michael," with sudden seriousness. “My future father-in-law, you mean?” “Whatever happens you mustn’t be concerned in the escape." Michael was not sorry to be left out of it. “I’ll tell you what I can do." he suggested. “I’ll take responsibility for him once he is out. How about

With which damning praise he left it. Elbe waited'a few minutes longer, and then set off for home. Michael would be back. Her heart b’gan to beat a little faster. The door of his studio was ajar. And there was his bag where ho had flung it down carelessly just inside 'the room. But of Michael himself there was no sign. He had come and gone again in a hurry, leaving the door unlocked in his usual thoughtless way. Effle procoeded to her own and Kale’s Hat above. Kate was away In Paris, She had the place to herself, and the whole afternoon in which to amuse herself. She might have gone out, but instead sho chose to sit by the window arid read. It was evidently not deeply Interesting, for her eyes wandered frequently from the page to the street below. At half-past three Michael returned. She could hear his quiok step on the stairs below. Now he was In the studio. She changed quickly Into a simple little frock, her thoughts busy all the while with the problem of whether Michael preferred cucumber sandwiches or anchovied eggs.

that?” "Yes, you could do that," sighed Eflle, contentedly, ‘‘that solves our last problem." It had occurred to Michael that if he could not dissuade Withers from the mad enterprise, he would at least have it in his power to prevent any serious consequences. Raike, until tiie specialists should have given their verdict, Would be as rigidly guarded as though still in the asylum, lie could see to that. "Have you any definite plan?" he asked presently. CHAPTER VIII. "John Withers Is working it out. We are counting on help from one of the attendants, a man named Jinks, who helped me before, and, of course, I didn't give him away. He would do anything for me, and he hates Dr. Brooks! The letter we sent will bring him to town to-morrow afternoon. I shall meet him, and once I've made sure of him, John Withers will come into it and give him his instructions.” "Well, good-lucl; to him," said Michael, feelingly.

“John Withers Is working’ it out. We are counting on help from one of the attendants, a mail named Jinks, who helped me before, and, of course, I didn't give him away. He would do anything for me, and he hates Dr. Brooks! The letter we sent will bring him to town to-morrow afternoon. I shall meet him, and once I’ve made sure of him, John Withers will come into it and give him his instructions.” “Well, good-luck to him," said Michael, feelingly.

r „ D vrT With all his heart and soul Michael lhai tick vu. admired the chubby young barrister's Michael sipped his tea and watched audacity. lie could appreciate far Efile's deft fingers manipulating the better than Effle, the risks he was undainty tea-servlcc. He smiled con- dertaking in this amaz ng enterprise, tentedly. “Good luck to him, he said again, What a difference a woman In the “he deserves It.” # place could make. There was no , * ~ / need for her to chatter or fuss; Just Jimmy Baikfe arrived in k° nc | o n to have her there was enough. It the avowed Intention o. enjoying filled him with a sense of well-being, himself. There .was still a pleasan Impossible to explain or define it. One rustlo of crisp notes from his wallet just felt different; even familiar ob- when he opened it Lncle Timothy s jects took on a new charm and attrao- remittance had been astonish ng y

With all his heart and soul Michael admired the chubby young barrister’s audacity. He could appreciate far better than Effle, the risks he was undertaking in this amazing enterprise. “Good luck to him," he said again, “he deserves it.” u o n e Jimmy Raikfe arrived in London with the avowed intention of enjoying himself. There was still a pleasant rustlo of crisp notes from his wallet when he opened it. Uncle Timothy's remittance had been astonishingly

tion. And if Elbe could bring him this foretaste of “Home,” what bliss It would be when Margaret and he. . . . ae sank into a pleasant reverie. Elbe began to chatter of the minor events of Hie week-end—she was keeping her tit-bit of news till the end —and Michael awoke. “I didn’t tackle Sir Timothy,” he said ruefully. “But I’ll try it next week. You see It’s a little difficult. I don’t w'ant to ruffle him if I can help it.” “I suppose not," agreed Elbe, doubtfully. “But still, if he’s such a horrid old man, wflfrld that matter so much ?" * "It isn’t that,” said Michael, with a laugh. “I’m not considering him, I can assure you. But there’s Marga n et to think of.” The colour ebbed from Efbe’s cheeks. She tried to control the tremor In her voice as she asked: “Who is Margaret?" “Of course, I’d forgotten. You don’t know her yet. Margaret is his daughter, and we’re engaged—unofficially at present; we want to win his consent. So you see, it is a little difficult.” Why, oh why, had she not foreseen this possibility? She fought down her own feelings. Michael must never guess. “You will be very happy, Michael, I know you will," she said softly. "What is she like? Tell me about her, Michael.” And Michael, all unconscious that every word was a stab, began to talk of Margaret. It gave Elbe time to fight things out. with herself. What did it matter, she told herself, so long as Michael was happy. “If I had known,” she reproached him a little later, “I would never have asked you to speak to Sir Timothy.” “On the other hand,” said Michael, thoughtfully, “It is only fair to hear what he has to say. It’s a pretty ghastly crime to accuse anyone of." “Well, there will be no need for it to corne from you, Michael.” A little of her earlier excHcment was returning to her. “I’ve seen John Withers again and he says—” it was 100 good to part with in one breath. “He says?” prompted Michael. “He says lie will do it.” “Do what?” “Get him out of The Haven.’ Michael smiled at her enthusiasm. “That’s splendid. Withers is the chap. If there is any truth in Baike’s yarn, lie’ll ferret it out. It will take time, of course.” “No,” said Elbe, mysteriously, "It won’t.” Michael was thinking of the sluggish machinery of the Law. “Don’t be over-optimistic, Elbe,” he advised. “Listen," whispered Elbe, excitedly, "John Withers says so long as Edmund.baike is in ‘The Haven’ the difficulties are tremendous. But once he Is out and the specialists examine him, then not all the wicked relations and lying doctors in the world can send him back —if he is sane. And I know he is.” Michael stared in astonishment. “Do you mdan—?” “If lie escapes,” supplied Efr.e delightedly. “And Withers suggested that!” Michael let out a roar of laughter. “Then he’s madder than I thought." “He’s not mad at all; he’s sensible,” protested Effle, fiercely, “He believes me.” "So do I. But it would never havo occurred to me to break Into the asylum and kidnap him. You see,” he added, soothingly, “I’m not at all ■; ure —well, suppose the story Ralke told you is only a clever fabrication. Lunatics can be very plausible, you know, and yours is a very sympathetic nature, Effle.” She flared up at that indignantly, nd Michael felt he could, understand “Chubby” Withers losing his matter-of-fact sanity for the moment. “You say you believe me and all the time you don’t, 1 " she protested. “It wasn’t a tale; B was the truth. Do you think I could have lived six months in a mental home without

generous. The first thing he did when ho arrived at his hotel was to write and inform his uncle that he had arrived and as soon as funds failed, or borfidom set In, would duly turn up at Arden Hall like the bad penny. His uncle would not be pining for his company; on that score Jimmy had no illusions. He had hardly troubled his brains to wonder what motive Sir Timothy could have for recalling him. There was no sort of explanation in the letter —the first he had received in the whole seven years of his exile —but Jimmy was not particularly curious. He had thrown the letter away, smiled upon the cheque and prepared to leave for England. life to Jimmy, if he ever thought about it at all, was just a journey from here to there, and “ there ” was a vague something that coincided with the coming of the undertaker. Meanwhile, the road was amusing, and he could see no reason to dally about paving it with regrets. London, with its teeming life, fascinated him. Ho was alone, and yet not lonely. A thousand things were happening around him at every moment. Adventure lurked round every street corner, or If not adventure, at least something new and strange. He was sauntering along the Strand on the day following his arrival, and, as he afterwards recalled, with the feeling strongly upon him that something. was going to happen, when he was sudenly jerked into life by a woman’s shrill cry. “ ' Arold ! Come 'ere. Come ’ere, I tell yer,” and then the scream, “ Ow-oo I ” Jimmy bounded between two stationary, buses after the errant Harold. A harsh warning shout and the shriller cry of another woman who had seen the danger. The oncoming taxi swerved violently. In the nick of time Jimmy’s hand caught the infant, and flung him back, but his own impetus carried him forward, and the wheel of the Laxi caught him and bowled him over. The taxi pulled up within a foot of him and the driver jumped out. “ Hurt, guv’nor? ” he asked, anxiously. Jimmy was already picking himself up. Ills shoulder felt as though it had been torn off, but he answered quickly: “ No, damage, thanks.” The usual crowd was already beginning to collect. He hated the idea nf a scene. All he wanted was to gilt away as quickly as possible , . . and then he saw her, and overyhting else seemed to vanish into thin air. Jimmy just stood and stared at the giri’s face framed in the window of the taxi, a piquant face set in a mist of red-gold Hair, lips parted a little, eyes fearful, starihg into his unquestionlngly. She seemed on the point of speaking when the taxi began to move on again, and she drew back from the window. Jimmy could see now that she had a companion. His face was vaguely familiar. He was not going to rack his brains about that. He was only conscious of one overwhelming impulse—if he had to searcli the whole of London, he must find that girl again. He returned at once to his hotel and summoned one of the staff to assist him in strapping up his bruised shoulder with strips of adhesive tape. “ Thanks," he said, when it was done, and tipped the man handsomely, v What’s your name?" “Jones, sir.” “ No Christian name, I mean.” “ Henry, sir.” “Good. Married?" “ No, sir.” “Any children? But of course not.” “ No, sir,” without a glimmer of expression. “ \Vell, take my tip, Henry. Don't call any of them ’Arold." Henry was half-way to the door when he remembered something. “A gentleman called while • you were out, sir. Name of Quaile. Said he would come back about four.”