“ TO-MORROW’S CHILD”

Manawatu Times, Volume 64, Issue 111, 13 May 1939, Page 7

“ TO-MORROW’S CHILD”

♦ « By Julie Anne Moore « | Instalment 6. |

Synopsis of Preceding Instalments: Val Clark, who soon is to marry Robert Greeley, a young New England lawyer, goes to New York from New Manchester on a shopping tour with Mrs. Warren, her Aunt Mahala’s housekeeper. Val’s cousin, Nate Hollister, editor of a fashion magazine. Kate asks her to a party where she meets Hugh Malcolm, successful young playwright; Bret Gallishaw, a New Manchester boy, who, while doing newspaper work in New York, writes a best seller; Leslie Crawford, Bret’s half-brother, and Winifred Sperry, who are starring in Hugh’s “End of Tears,” and Guy Williams, who inherited millions and has a small part in the play. Bret was engaged to Kate, but marries wealthy Evelyn Garfield. There is hard feeling between Bret and Leslie over an inheritance, and Leslie resents Hugh’s attentions to Winifred. As Leslie and Winifred are about to give a scene from the play, Guy arlcs Val to go with him to Pete’s place, saying she is to see the play anyhow. At Pete Gaboriau’s, outside Philadelphia, Guy is greeted with kisses by Louise Cameron —“Leeze to you,” Guy says in his introductions. Leeze drags Guy off to dance, leaving Val with Crandall Scott. When they meet later Leeze strikes Val who defends herself so well Guy has to carry Leeze from the dining room. While waiting for Guy, Cran takes Val to Pete’s gaming rooms. They are trapped in a raid. Val gives bail for both and Cran drives her back. She returns with a black eyo as Hugh is telling Kate of a play inspired by Val’s personality. Guy appears a little later.

had not reached the stage and it had been necessary only to transfer the Bcenery, props and costumes to tho Kingsley, but the conditions were sufficiently new and unfamiliar hero to keep Hugh Malcolm in constant conference with the director and his assistants. Winifrod Sperry, trying to get Hugh’s attention, recognised Val iftid ran over for a word. “We’re in a grand stow,” she said, laughing. “Let’s hope we get straightened out before the curtain rises.” She wore a lovely aqua tint chiffon and Val thought it was no wonder Hugh was in love with her. She was really beautiful. ’ ’ But she did not understand the full significance of what Winifred had said until a little later Kate whispered to her, “Leslie and Winifred have been fighting all day. Winifred lost her head just before w r e came and threw a prop knife at him and now Leslie’s shut up in his dressing room, sulking. Tho ‘Sweethearts of Broadway’,” she said, with a wry grin. “Hugh wants me to go in and pull him out of it. You’ll be all right here.” The curtain was to rise at eightthirty. At eight-twenty Guy appeared and put a ticket in her hand. “Sorry I'm late,” he said. “You’ll have to go through the lobby with this or they’ll think you muscled in. It won’t take me five minutes to make up and change. Pull the curtain around if you’re selfconscious, but your eyo isn’t bad at all. ’ ’ Guy had barely disappeared when Hugh came up, asking, “Where’s Kate —not still with Leslie?” Someono caught him by the arm. “Just a moment,” he said impatiently; and to Val: “The curtain goes up in a couple of minutes. Go tell Kate, will you, Val? . . . Leslie’s dressing-room is at the far end of the corridor, the last one on the right.” The door of Leslie’s dressing-room was half-open and in the mirror on the opposite will Val saw the actor’s reflection. He was standing behind the door, his side to the mirror, looking down at something in his hands. Val lifted her hand to knock, hesitated—and in that moment of delay, Leslie Crawford moved so that his hands came into the reflected view and V'al saw that he was looking at the photograph of a child, apparently a little boy of three or four years old.

Hugh said, with little animation in his voice, * ‘ Hollo, Guy . • . ” Then,

turning to Val with a vague smile, he Baid, “I think I’ll make a raid on the ice-box, if you’ll excuse me.” “Perhaps you’ve noticed the great playwright is a little on edge,” Guy said casually when Hugh had left the room. “He tried to nose into an argument between Leslie Crawford and Winifred Sperry at the theatre this afternoon and Leslie practically throttled him.”

Val sank into a chair, and took a magazine from the table, turning the pages idly. Presently she looked up. “I suppose you know Cran brought me home. He came by about half-an-hour ago to say good-bye.” Still standing, Guy demanded, * ‘ Why didn’t you wait for me last night! You knew I’d be back.” “Are you really serious!” But he couldn’t be, possibly. There was a long silence, Guy glaring at her, Val continuing her inspection of the magazine. Then Val returned the magazine to the table and stood up, facing him. “I’m leaving New York to-morrow,” she told him quietly enough, “and I’ve a good many little things to attend to. I can’t honestly say I’ve enjoyed knowing you—but at least it has been a unique experience.” She started toward the hall door, stiffened in her tracks as she felt his hand close on her left wrist. Slit* turned hor head sideways to look at him, eyes blazing. A half grin formed on Guy’s lips. “I wonder,” he said, “if you realise how completely you’ve given yourself away! You’ve tried to convince yourself that you don’t like me—and every gesture and every word you’ve spoken has made a liar out of you. And—l like you ...” Kate stood in the doorway watching them for some time, unseen, before she asked, lightly, “What’s the significance of the pantomime, children!” Releasing Val’s wrist, Guy said pleasantly, “Any objections if I take Val to the theatre to-night! I managed to wangle a box this afternoon.” Val had drawn breath to refuse firmly when Kate cried quickly, “You did really? . . . That’s the answer, then. Hugh was just saying we’d have difficulty juggling the tickets so that Bret and I could have Val with us . . .” Abruptly she turned to Val, “Unless you’d rather not, darling . . .?” Val shrugged, forced a smile. “I don’t want to bo contrary, but—with my face banged up I’d be rather conspicuous in a box, wouldn’t I?” “It’s an orchestra box and there’s a curtain,” Guy said. “You needn’t be seen by anyone oxcept those on the stage. ’ ’ As Hugh came out of the dining room Guy turned to Val. “I’ll be up about seven-thirty. O.K.f” “That isn’t necessary,” Kate told him, quickly. “We’re all going backstage before the show, anyway. You can take charge of Val after we arrive. ’ ’ Guy looked at Kate as if about to protest this* then smiled and nodded agreement. ‘*Well, better hump along.” When they heard the door close, Val turned a puzzled face to Hugh. “Is Guy in the play?” she asked. . “After a manner of speaking,” Hugh grinned. “He has a bit part, in the first and last acts —and he blames me for not having a better.” “You won’t be along more than ten minutes all told, darling,” Kate assured Val. It was not until Val was a part of the confusion backstage at the Kingsley Theatre that she remembered she had not yet told Kate and Hugh why she had come to New York. And she knew then that she would not tell them. It would bo. far easier and simpler to say “No” to Hugh’s implied offer of a job and go back to New Manchester and let them forget her. She was introduced to a dozen persons, the producer, the director, the assistant director, several members of the cast. Kate was busy with the caterer for the backstage party for the cast after tho show. Bret Gallishaw had brought them to the theatre, but had discreetly remained in the lobby. The fire in tho old Amburgh Theatre

Val stepped back, cleared her throat and then approached the door again and knocked. The door swung open and Leslie looked at her, smiling. 4 4 Oh, hollo,” he said, pleasantly. “You’re Kate Hollister’s young cousin, aren’t you?” Val nodded. “Is Kate here?” It was quite apparent that Kate was not there. “She was some time ago,” ho said. “Perhaps she’s out front.” He stepped into tho corridor as she hurried away. “Be suro to come back after the show,” ho called after her. 4 4 Thanks. ’ ’ She ran now, across the stage, out the alley door and around to the lobby where she encountered Bret Gallishaw and Kate just going in. “Hurry, darling. You’ll find us fourth row, centre,” Kate said. Guy’s first entrance was at the beginning of the first act. When he came back, not more than five minutes later, he brought a pair of binoculars. “That’s the nearest thing to opera glasses among the props,” he said, grinning. “Try them on Kate and Bret. ’ ’ Val said, “Leslie Crawford worries me, Guy. Ho doesn t seem to be at ease. Is he always like that?”

“The little game is still being played, show or no show.” Guy told her. “They’re all hating one another and—let me have those glasses a second, will you?” A moment later he gave thorn back. “Take a look at Leslie’s face now.”

Val looked. Tho scene was the interior of a mountain shack where Leslie and Winifred had taken refuge from a severe electrical storm. Thoy had been quarrelling constantly since the scene opened, Leslie—a quiet, dignified young college professor—accusing Winifred—an ultra-modern daughter of great wealth—of deliberately trapping him here in an effort to force him to marry her. A moment before Winifred, thoroughly sickened with the man, had suddenly jerked open the door of the shack and run out into tho storm. Now, as Val focussed tho glasses wn Leslie’s face, he was pacing the floor of the shack, wringing his hands. The situation called for facial strain, but Val somehow sensed, as Guy had, that the twitching of Leslie’s face was not voluntary, that he was passing through a ghastly mental experience in no way connected with the business of the play. The stage storm increased in violence; thunder rolled, lightning crashed. Leslie opened the door, shouted, suddenly slammed it shut and stood with his back to it . . . Val took the glasses from her eyes. “It’s horrible to watch him,” she said. Guy took tho binoculars eagerly, trained them on the stage just as Leslie rushed to the window of the shack and peered out into the dark night. “Better put your fingers in your ears,” Guy said out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes glued to the glasses. As Leslie put his fingers on the window sill there was a sharp, amazingly realistic flash of stage lightning followed by a deafening crash. Leslie reeled, staggered up stage. Eor an instant the stage was in darkness—then the lights came ou revealing the actor’s still, curiously sprawled figure between the window and tho crude table. Tho curtain foil. Guy said in a strained whisper, “That’s not . in the script . . .he’s supposed to bo crouched down in the corner . . . he’s fainted! ” Her nails cutting into her clenched hands, Val heard the shrill, muffled scream of a woman behind that motionless curtain and kuow that Leslie Crawford had not fainted. Quickly she turn-

ed her head to seek Kate’s eyes. Both Kate’s and Bret’s seats were empty. (To be Continued.)