“TO-MORROW’S CHILD”

Manawatu Times, Volume 64, Issue 153, 1 July 1939, Page 8

“TO-MORROW’S CHILD”

Synopsis to Preceding Instalments: Val Clarke, engaged to Robert Greeley, of New Manchester, Conn., goes to New York. At Kate Hollister ’» a fashion magazine editor, her cousin, she meets Hugh Malcolm, playwright; “Bret Gallishaw, New Manchester author; LeslieCrawford, Bret's stepbrother, Winifred Sperry, stars in Hugh 's ‘ ‘ End of Tears," and Guy Williams, who inherited millions and has a small part in the play. Bret hates Leslie after losing a legacy. Leslie is jealous of Hugh's interest in Winifred and the spoiled Guy resents Hugh's failure to get him a better role. When Leslie is shot dead during a stage storm scene Hugn and Bret are suspected. It is learned that Leslie and Winifred were married and had a child that she has given into Bret's keeping. Prosecutor Kellogg is baffled after Bret is shot dead in his seat when Kellogg re-stages the storm scene in search of evidence. Louise (Leeze) Cameron and Crandall Scott, of Washington, visit Yal at New Manchester and Yal's Aunt Mahala orders Leeze out for smoking. Val •'oes too, but gets a wire from Kate, goes to New' York and is able to clear Hugh of suspicion. Yal's personality had inspired a play and Hugh had offered her a salary to Temaiu in New York. She accepts now. Hugh finds he loves her, but she thinks he loves Winifred. Kate gives her a job. Cran tells Val he loves her. boon after leaving her and while with Guy he is shot and dangerously hurt. Guy leaves with Leeze in a ’plane. Kellogg learns Guy shot all three with a pistol deftly concealed in binoculars.

That morning, Thursday, Kate decided to bring Val to her senses. «he made no effort to be gentle or subtle about it.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Hugh, \ al, but you re both being unbelievably childish. My own notion is that Winifred had something to do with it. She's mad about Hugh, but she was mad about Leslie before Hugh came along and she'll probably be mad about some other man when she can bring herself to face the fact that Hugh loves you as he never loved any woman before ..." Surprised and a little bewildered, \ al asked quietly, ‘‘What brought this on, Kate f' ’ ‘‘l've known quite a few men in my time, Yal," Kate resumed, soberly, “and I could write a live-foot shelf on their common faults—but if I were choosing a husband strictly on his merits as & man, I'd snatch Hugh Malcolm up without a second thought. He's not perfect. But he's decent and intelligent and honourable and—and as far as you’re concerned, he worships the \ery air you breathe . . . You're probably thinking I'm butting in where I have no business, but I’ve watched this thing go on as long as I can. If you think Winifred means anything to Hugh, it's time you woke up. And Hugh—well, thinks there's something between you and Cran . . . ’’ Yal's eyes broke from Kate's earnest gaze to stare down at her breakfast plate. It was as if Kate had read her thoughts these past twelve hours. For last night she had searched her heart for the answer to Katd's implied question . . . and failed to find it. Her voice gentle now, perhaps a little contrite. Kate said, “I’m not trying to live your life for you—to use your own phrase. If there's a decision to make—and 1 still think you’re so afraid of making a mistake you won't even credit your own feelings —make it in your own sweet way, darling . . . And I'll be terribly grateful if you don't say anything when I shut up. I feel like a nosey old fool as it is." Yal looked up at her and smiled and the smile said a great deal, but she did not speak. Two hours later Val was busy at her desk when Kate looked over her shoulder and said, “I think you ought to run down to the hospital and ask about Cran." Val thought, “She knows I’ve teen flunking about him the whole blessed morning." She said, “Perhaps 1 ought to get these captions out of the way before I go." But Kate shook her head firmly. “Hugh sent a wire to Cran’a father yesterday," Kate told her as Yal pulled on her coat. “You might ask the nurse if they’ve heard from him." Nervously District Attorney Kellogg smoothed out the white sheet with its large blue heading and its little message typed below. The name of the town defied an intelligible reading, but the word “Mexico" was distinct and understandable. He read 'the quaint message once more: “Aeroplane maybe like you say come down close by here with great bang and burn up; man burn up, too, other man hurt very bad; girl cry too much but seems like O.K. At your services—M. Martinez, Chief of Police." The doctor was an American and young. When they had put the man on the stretcher and carried him to the ambulance, he told the Mexcan interne. “He’ll come around all right—but don’t lose any time. I’ll take the girl in with me." Leeze looked up, dry-eyed, when the doctor came back into the small, smelly store. “Where is he?" she demanded, her voice husky from crying. “What did you do with him?" “I sent him into the hospital," the doctor replied. “Don't worry. He may have a slight concussion, but I couldn’t find anything worse . . .I’ll take you in now and have that little cut on your chiu dressed." When the doctor’s ancient car passed the field on the far side cf which the lone policeinan stood guard over the charred wreckage of the 'plane, she caught her breath in a little sob and turned her eyes away. “Don’t talk if you’d rather not,” the young doctor said, “but I’m natur-

By Julie Anne Moore

Instalment 27.

ally curious to know what happened." Leeze shrugged. “I don't mind. We left New York to fly to Washington and this is where we ended up. Guy offered the pilot five thousand dollars if he would fly us to Mexico. The pilot wouldn't listen to it at first, but when Guy told him we wanted to come to Mexico to get married, lie said he'd do it. He was a good egg, that pilot. ’ ’ The doctor nodded, sympathetically. “Never mind," he said, “you can still get married." She gazed off into space. “We were married about two hours ago, ’' she told him and laped into silence. Presently she resumed: “We stopped for gasoline three times and then about nine o’clock the motor went bad and the pilot said he'd have to land and check it up. We landed on that field back there and Guy and I walked over to this road and asked for a ride into town. There’s an American running a filling station there and he helped us get things fixed up. Then when, we—when, it was all over, Guy hunted up a dive and had several drinks. I don’t know how many—too many, anyway. You see what happened. ’ ’

“Yes, nodding. “Liquor and flying don’t go together, do they!'’ “When we got back to the ’plane,” Leeze continued, “the pilot was ready and we got in and took off. We were up about fifty feet, I suppose, when we saw the man leaving the car on the road and signalling for us to come down. The pilot started to land, but Guy jumped up and shouted for him to keep going and when the pilot ignored him, Guy ran up and caught him by the shoulders and tried to pull him out of the seat . . . The next I knew I was lying on the floor in that creepy store." “Yes," the doctor said. “You were lucky. The policeman saw the whole thing. He said the pilot must have been knocked unconscious by the fall. They tried to get to him, but by the time your Guy had pulled you out the ’plane was a mass of flames." Again she looked up at him, plainly bewildered. Then, abruptly: “You’re confusing the two . . . The man you sent to the hospital was the pilot." That was all. The doctor stirred un easily. “I’m sorry," he said at last “I—l didn’t understand it was youl husband—’ ’ “My husband? . . . Yes, he was my husband, wasn't he? I’d forgotten that.’’ She looked up at him again: “Funny I don't feel anything, isn’t it? . . . He was my husband and I —l don't feel any grief, any—nothing." The doctor was suddenly sorry he had urged her to talk. He said, “Don't think about it any more now. You'll feel better to-morrow." “Val," said Hugh, “this is Gran's father ... Yal Clarke, Senator, the one—” “Yes, of course," the former United States Senator Crandall Scott said quickly. “Mr. Malcolm was just about to call you and ask if you could come down, Miss Clarke." As Yal looked at him she had an impression of great bulk, a partially bald head, a strong, grave face distinguished chiefly by a wide, firm mouth and a jutting chin. She said, “How is he— Cran?' ’ The big man lifted his huge shoulders in a hopeless gesture, but Hugh said, quickly, “Oh, he’ll come around. It takes time." Looking at Val, Hugh said, “Cran has been asking for you, Yal. Several times. They want to keep him as quiet as possible, of course, but —if you could just let him see you. If you could —talk to him for a minute ..." Val thought, “He must be dying, or Hugh wouldn't stammer so. He's talking as if I might possibly refuse, as if I need to be persuaded." She said, quickly, “Of course ..." and walked between them down the hall to the elevator. The head nurse said, “I’m sorry, you can't all go in at once." Hugh shook his head. “Miss Clarke's going in alone. Let her stay as long as you can. He wanted to see her." The nurse nodded and softly opened the door. For a moment Yal hesitated, then stepped into the room. The ddor closed behind her. Cran was lying very still, his head sunk deep in his pillow. Val saw that he was pale—paler than anyone she had ever seen—and his closed eyes seemed to like in great dark hollows. It was incredible that he could have changed She spoke his name, low and gently. And then as his eyes opened and moved around in search of her, she crossed to the bed, walked around it and bent over him, her face just above his. “Yal . . . Yal—darling ..." His smile stabbed at her heart and the throbbing in her throat was the throb of real pain. For au instant she closed her eyes before she lowered her head and kissed him on the mouth. He reached out lor her, gripped her wrist and drew her hand into his, and all the while he looked up at her the bright glow of a hidden flame shone in his eyes and a faint film of colour spread through his cheeks. “It’s—O.K.—Yal." “Of course it is. You're over the worst, Cran. It's—it's just a matter of time now until you’ll be back in the swim. We're going to have some grand times to make up l’or this ..." She hadn ’L meant to say that—to lie. She hadn’t meant to say anything that might suggest, she was forcing herself to say it, to keep him from knowing the truth. But the words had come. Once she had started to speak, the words had come, like that. ‘ ‘ Sure," he said, and his eyes wandered for a moment. “Sure—we'll have—swell—times . . . We’ll go places?" “Any place you say." His two hands tightened about her hand: “You —mean that?" “Of course, Cran. You know we will." And still she thought only to say the thing that he wanted her to “Gee, that’s —that's swell, Yal . . . I told—Dad —you would