BILLIE'S BURGLAR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21116, 25 February 1932, Page 4

BILLIE'S BURGLAR.

By M, STUART.

levelling was warm and very still. As BiTlie lolled on the verandah she could hear the murmur of the little stream that f ran through the hundred-acre paddock; dotted here and there in the failing light vers little clusters of sheep and from the horse paddock came the sleepy whinny ■of Tessa's foal. Not another sound in all the world; not another human being for several miles. For the big station was empty to-night. There was a dance at the little settlement ten miles away and the maids had gone from the homestead and shepherds from the cook-house. Dick had driven to the distant railway station to meet his uncle who was arriving by the midnight express; he could not be back till half-past one. Billio was alone in all this sleeping, breathless world. For once in her life the girl felt a little lonely. Getting up suddenly from bellow chair she flung the butt of her cigaictt© into the nearest flower-bed and perched for a minute on the broad railing of the verandah. Something in the perfect peaco and prosperity of her surroundings smote a little uncomfortably on her gay heart. How happy she was, how care-free, how utterly sheltered! These were hard times in the world. Dick shrugged gloomily at the mention of the two years' wool that was stored in his shed and they had taken no long holiday this year. Billio had bought few frocks and they had given the last two race-meetings a miss. But. that was all. Tho tragedy of life in 1932 had scarcely touched her. Dick gavo generously, she knew, and she herself had sold two young horses of which she had had secret hopes, and had given the money to charfty. Next week she was helping to organise a fete for the Unemployed Funds. . . . Little enough. . • - . Ought she, perhaps, to give up the little car that had been her father's last birthday present. But then he would be hurt. Sho wouldn t like parting with it herself, for it was a new toy and very precious to her. Some idle whim moved her to go down to the little garago and have another look at the pretty, expensive plaything. She slipped noiselessly across tho tun ' of the tennis lawn and pushed open the door she had left ajar that afternoon. And then she recoiled in surprise'and a quick, instinctive fear. For the garaeje was not empty. In the twi)i K ht she" could see the dark figure of a man bending over the bonnet, of her car. ■ He turned quickly at her gasp and for one second they faced each ° her complete silence. The next, Billie felt her wrist grasped and she was dragged ■ inside the shed and the door quickly shut and locked behind her. It was the sound of that key, which she had carelessly left in the lock, grating home that roused her to a swift, unaccountable " How dare you lock that door ? How dare you touch me ?" The shed was in total darkness now and Billie could hear tho quick breathing of the man close beside her. Steadying - her voice, she said, " Open that door at once, or I'll scream. ' To her fury the answer came unperturbed. " You may scream and scream it you wish I know the house is empty." Biilie stamped with rage, forgetting her fear. " What do you want ? Why arc you /touching my car?" For answer the man switched on the powerful headlights and for ..a long minute Billie found herself gazing into the blind* ing light. Then she heard his voice again, speaking as if to himself. "She looks a good sort. XNot one of the hounds. ... 111 risk it. "Bisk what?" asked Billie sharply, the darkness and vague terror en hei nerves. \ " Risk the truth. . . • here, little lady, I want to borrow your car. ' No, you needn't laugh; I mean borrow not steal. I'm running away." "Running? From whom?" ( . " From the police. ... I won t hurt your car. I understand them. 1 only want to get to X—to the railway. ' " I daresay! A likely story. Of couise • I won't let you have it." " How do you propose to stop me ? The voice sounded as though the speakei / were smiling quizzically and Billio stif fened. " It's a pity you didn't lock the car this afternoon. Yes, I know you useci her and I know she's got enough benzine ' for a hundred miles. I've been hiding round hero for hours, you see—crouching in your garelen, like the wretched haie; you're all so fond of hunting.' It's i / rotten game—being one of the haies. Some sincerity in the tone, something new and rather terrible in this misery stirred Billie's heart for the second turn that evening. Hesitating, sho asked ."But. what—what have you done?" " Nothing so terrible —just what a mar does when he's desperate and knows the woman he loves is in need. Nothing sc much, little lady—but enough to marl me down for good and all. If they ge .me now, I'm done. It means gaol ane gaol means ruin. If I can get away to night, I can get right out of tho country. I've got the money now —I didn't steal il after all. Delia begged it from ha father. He could have given it before in time to save me—but he waited til. too late. . . - Oh, you think In talking wildly, but it's all the truthonly a man doesn't put things very clearlj when he's been—been hungry for a daj or two." . There was a quaver of weakness in tiif voice and Billie said quickly, Hungry . Why on earth didn't you say so? Come along into the house and have a meal. We can talk later. No, it's quite safe. No one can be home for hours. " You—you mean?" There was hope and incredulity in the voice, and Biilie laughed. " After all, you could take a meal and the car, if you liked, couldn't you ? But let's pretend gracefully that I'm giving it freely. Come on." Half an hour later Billie sat taking a quiet survey of her burglar as he finished a capacious repast. He was young, she decided; probably only twenty-five; goodlooking, in a weak and effeminate way; dark-eyes, pale and very slender. Not one of tho battlers of this world. " And now suppose you tell me something about it. The truth, please; I can get all the fiction I want from the library." He smiled and took the proffered cigarette. "I owe you tho truth at least, though fiction would sound better. It's not an , heroic tale; but then, as you see, I'm not an heroic figure. I'm only a lawyer's ' clerk, but I married the most wonderful giil in the world. That's my one distinction. But we had bad luck. My boss , embezzled funds and the oflice closed. For a year I've been trying to get a job. You know what . chance there is for a chap like me. Delia kept on with her work till she got ill. Then wo were really in the soup. I got a little relief work, but it wouldn't pay for her illness E o—I expect you've seen already that I'm a fool—l thought I'd get money as other chaps were getting it—by opening a safe. / But I didn't pull it off—bungled it, as I seem to bungle most tilings, and nearly got caught. They traced me home and I had to get away quick and hide my tracks. But I told Delia to meet me at X— tonight, and I'd have been there if they • hadn't got on to me again yesterday. I - had to come round here to shake them / off. But, if you'll let me have the car, I can still get that midnight train, and then we can get right away. Otherwise —

A NEW ZEALAND STORY.

(COPYMGHT.)

well it would be belter for Delia, better for us both, if they didn't get me—alive Ilis eyes, terrified and hunted, as she had once seen a hare's when the hounds were close, were turned on her. liillie hesitated only for a moment. "That's all true? You didn t really take anything ? " , . With a reckless laugh he turned out empty pockets. " Not a bean—though I tried hard enough." ... „ ~, " Then you're not a criminal —really : " No, only a fool—really. " " And Delia ? " " Ah, she's different. Delia s pure gold." " And she'll stick to you? - " Yes. She's that sort." Billie glanced at the clock. " Eight. I'll take you to X—myself. Less risk. What, for me ? Pooh, I don't care. They'll never stop me. Wait, though, we'll make sure of it. Pull off your boots quickly. Lucky I've got some huge shoes here that were Cousin Jane's. You're thin enough. I believe you could wear my coat .I'll get them. You'll make quite a fashionable girl. • •" Ten minutes later two people were travelling rapidly along the main highway in a trim little car. The driver was a girl with bright, short curls and eyes of golden brown; beside her was a slim, darkeyed girl, whose skirts were unfashionably short and who had cut herself on the chin when shaving in haste. They pulled up in the shadows outside the station. " Here's some money, said liulie. " Better to have plenty. You can pay me back some day, if you want to. "No use trying to thank you," the man said, with a queer break in ilis vcice. " Want me to promise to run straight? But Billie smiled a wise little smiltf. " I think I can leave that to Delia, she said. ~ L , Having seen Delia, she was sure that she could. He pointed her out, waiting himself in the shadows until the actual arrival of tlio train. She was a pale girl and not pretty, but there was about her a steadfastness and a 6weet gravity that Billie think of the young husband s, .Ah, but she's pure gold!" There was 110 sign yet of Dick upon the platform and E;lhe walked swiftly past the girl; as fihe went she dropped her bag and stayed to muimur, " He's here. He'll get in the rack carriage—dressed as a girl in a brown coat," She saw the start so quickly controlled and the sudden colour that flooded the delicate checks. Re-passing, she murmured, " Be kind to him; lies had his lesson;" and then, risking a swift smile, " Good luck!" . " Yes, he's safe," Billie said to herself as she sped homeward. " Eyes like that will keep him in the straight and narrow path."- , , Her own eyes were glued upon the ®oad, for sho was speeding shamelessly. She had lurked near until the train was in and she had seen her couple aboard, and then had almost collided with Dick. Fortunately her husband's eyes were busy searching ior his uncle, but Billie had stayed not upon the order of her going. She must reach home first; thank goodness Uncle Geoffrey disliked fast driving. She did it with ten minutes to spare and was curled upon the sofa, blamelessly at leisure, when the pair arrived. Hardly were greetings exchanged when they heard another car draw up in the drive and Billie's heart, for some unknown reason, turned completely over. The police inspector was suavely apolonice hour of the night to intrude, Mrs Mayo. . . The truth is, we're after a man we suspect of burglary. Nothing disturbed here? tiood. . . And you've been alone ? Why, you might have had a nasty flight." Thinking of her poor young burglar, Billie almost smiled derisively. " Yes," the inspector was telling Dick, " a dangerous chap. . . He was seen near here. . • You won't mind if we search the house, Mrs. Mayo?" Thanking heaven that she had hidden the discarded clothing, Billie agreed suavely. " Come in atid have a cup of coffee, officer," sho called ten minutes later as the men were leaving. The danger was over; they had found nothing. Even as the thought formed comfortingly in her mind, she gave a little gasp and her eyes followed the sharp gaze of the inspector's. There, in full view of the group of men, lav a pair of worn black boots. . . It could have a moment only, but to Billie it seemed a lifetime, before sho heard Dick's voice, suavely helpful, " Searching the grounds, inspector ? I'll give you a hand. . . Just wait a moment, though, till I pull on theso old boots of mine. I'll move more easily in them," and then her own laugh, a little forced, and her merry voice, "Dick! You untidy boy! Your boots in here ! What next, X wonder ? A blessing Sarah's out," and turning to the inspector in whose face was a growing disappointmen!, 1 ' husband, you know officer, is a'real country bumpkin. . . He loves old clothes and always pulls off his respectable ones the minute he comes home. An hour later, when the police had gone and Uncle Geoffrey was sleeping the sleep of the pure in heart, Dick faced his wife in her oedroom. , And now will you tell me what you ve ' been up to?" » With a little gasp of relief and a head 1 that nestled very* close to his shoulder, 1 Billie obeyed. When the was finished ' Dick stroked the bright hair in silence for a moment and then gave something be- - tween a groan and a laugh. I " You'll land us both in gaol yet, Bill You'll never make a really good criminal—not neat and methodical ' enough." ... , " Oh Dick, but neither would he—such a poor, silly young thing. How Delia I C °"Good luck to her," said Dick soberly. ■ Then he sank on to the bed and held out a pathetic foot. . " Next time vou want to mix yourself in crime, my child, please choose someone with a decent-sized foot. This brute takes a small seven. . . Em cfippled for life.