PONDLETON'S LOVE LETTERS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21758, 24 March 1934, Page 20

PONDLETON'S LOVE LETTERS

BY ALFRED HEARD

' "Ah, George!" said Warner; looping a tie round two fingers and gazing at it critcally, " thirty years ago a tie like this would ha' been too quiet for our taste, wouldn't it?" "Thirty years ago!" repeated Pondleton, the hosier, with . half-closed eyes. " You were learning the provision trade in Exeter, Bert, and I was a smart young chap of twenty-two assisting my father, and serving behind this very counter." "A bit slimmer then than what you are now, eh, George?" Pondleton dr(Tw himself up and squared his shoulders. "All the girls looked after me when I walked down the High Street," he admitted. " Between you and me and the shop door, Bert, there was one in particular." He sighed, deeply. " Prettiest girl in the town, too —and I might ha' married her. It's a pity we ain't as wise at twenty as we are at fifty, Bert!" Warner looked at his watch, and shook his head doubtfully. " Providence knows what's best for us, George. I'll take this tie." " Thank you, Bert." Pondleton took the, tie, and proceeded to wrap it up. " Prettiest girl in the town, and the smartest," he muttered. " Tall and distinguished-looking, she was. Her name —Elinor Millicent —matched her, too; but I always called her Pansy, because that was her favourite flower, and I said she looked like one. Then 1 was fool enough to take out Jenny Brandon i I wonder whether Pansy kept my letters—h'm! that'll be three and six, if you please. Five shillings? One and six change. Mornin', Bert, and thank you!"

The door behind the counter opened, and a small, freckle-faced boy appeared. " I've opened those cases, sir." ■- -' r ' •

" That's right, Walter. You'd better take that parcel up to the Hall now, and then go homo to your dinner, my boy." "Very good, sir." The small boy put tho parcel under his arm, and marched off whistling cheerfully. Half an hour later, a tall, thin, heavily-veiled woman entered the shop! Walking straight up to the counter, she said, in a low yoice: " I'm speaking to Mr. George Pondleton, am I not?"

« "At your service, madam," replied the hosier.

" I should hardly have known you, George," murmured the woman, softly. " Don't you remember Pansy?" " Good Lord!" ejaculated the. astonished Pondleton. "Bless my soul! ]t can't be!"

" I had a bad illness a year ago, George, and it has changed me terribly. I won't raise my veil—l shouldn't like you to see me as I am now. Even my voice has altered." The woman fumbled in her handbag, and produced a faded envelope. " Here is a letter you sent me long ago—you recognise that, don't you?" Pondleton looked at the envelope with bulging eyes, and stretched out an eager hand. The woman laughed softly, and Bhook her head. " It's a very, passionate letter, George, and I've several more at home just as loving." She put the letter away again. " My illness took all my money, and I'm wondering whether you would assist me for the sake of old times?", " What happened to Ton! Jardine—you husband, then?" said the hosier, slowly.

" Poor Tom died some years ago, and left very little," explained the woman,,sadly. ' " I see." Pondleton stared thoughtfully at his boots. " Tom was very fond of racing, wasn't he? I suppose he lost a good bit on the turf?"

" Nearly all he had, George. Are you going to help me?" " Surely you have relations, Mrs.— er —Jardine?" Vfc-

"No, I haven't," said the woman, impatiently. " That's why I came to you. This letter begins: ' Girl of mine.' "

Pondleton reddened, and glanced round the shop uneasily. "Hush!" he snapped. " You want me to buy the letters, I suppose?" " Two hundred pounds buys them, George." "Two hundred pounds!" cried Pondleton. "Talk sense!"

" ' Girl with the starry eyes,' " recited the woman, loudly. " ' the music of your voice fills me with ecstasy, and when ' "

"Stop, woman!" hissed Pondleton, dancing with rage and shame, " I'll give you a hundred for the letters." " Nothing doing!" said "the woman, decidedly. She raised her voice again. " ' When you smile, your pearly teeth / " "S-s-s-sh!" Scarlet with rage, the hosier banged his fist .on the counter. " Very well! This is Tuesday—l'll have the money ready on Friday. Where are you living now?"

" Never mind where I live —I'll bring the letters here; and don't try to play any underhanded tricks, or» you'll regret it!" " Underhanded tricks!" sneered Pondleton. " You're the right one to talk about underhanded tricks, you are!" " Don't think I'm trying to blackmail you, George," said the woman, smoothing. " You'd rather buy the letters than your wife or friends should see them, I'm sure. I'll call at eleven on Friday." , Pondleton nodded curtly. "If I'm busy when you come in, take a seat and say you're in no hurry." He waited until his unwelcome visitor had reached the street, and then opened the door behind tho counter and shouted: "Are you there, Walter?"

The freckle-faced boy came forward. " Just back, sir." . " Do you think you could do a bit of detective work for me, my lad?" "Just try me, sir!" cried Walter, delightedly. Pondleton took the boy by the arm, and piloted him to the shop door. '' D'ye see that tall, thin woman, dressed in black, just passing the Spotted Dog, Walter? Very well. I want you to find out where she lives. If she takes a bus or train, you'd better go too, so long as it isn't more than a 10-mile journey. Here's five shillings for expenses. Whatever you do don't let her suspect that she's being followed!" Following tho youthful detective with his eyes, the hosier pulled his lower lip thoughtfully. " Walter'll do his best," he soliloquised. "H'm! I wonder how that imposter got hold of those letters? She doesn't know much about Pansy's-—er Mrs. Jardine's affairs, that's very evident. I suppose poor Pansy can't have died, and the ; letters, which she had religiously kept all these years,, have come into the hands of a crook? Tch! What a thun- , dering fool I was not to have married her when I had»the chance! I shall always believe that Pansy accepted Tom Jardine out o' pique." It was nearly/two hours later when Walter returned—full of importance and evidently well pleased with himself. ' • ' ■

" Well? " said Pondleton. " That woman gave you the slip, eh? '* v Walter grinned and shook his diead. Pulling a tattered; notebook from his pocket he wet a linger and turned over the pages. " On leaving the shop, sir, X followed the veiled woman at a safe distance along the High Street and. watched her enter the railway station. Then I ran as hard as I "could and reached the booking-hall in time to hear her ask for a ticket to Bidleigh. As soon as she had gone on to the platform I -bought a ticket for the same

A SHORT STORY

(COPYRIcnT),

place. When the -train stopped at Bidleigh I waited until she alighted and then got out and followed her. On leaving the station she turned up the Tiverton Road. You know Bidleigh, *1 suppose, sir? " " Yes, yes, my boy, go on." " About a quarter of a mile along the Tiverton Road the woman took tho footpath leading to Crockham's Farm. I thought she must he going to tho farm, but she turned off into Cox's Lane and I was just in tihie to see her enter the side door of a hew bungalow." " A new bungalow in Cox's Lane? " exclaimed Pondleton. " I didn't know there were any bungalows there." " There's only this one, sir, and it can't have been built very long, by tho look of it. It stands in a very large garden bounded by a high fence and I thought I might as well have a look itaund in case there was anything of interest to report." Pondleton nodded impatiently. "Quite right, my boy."

Walter again moistened his finger and consulted his, notebook. "At the end of the garden—about fifty yards from the back of the bungalow—l found a couple of bricks to stand on, and looked over the fence. Only a few feet away an elderly lady was working with a trowel. Seeing a chance to get some useful information for you, sir, I coughed loudly. The lady looked up and I asked whether she could tell me where a Mr. Cudwallop lived." " Who? " demanded Pondleton. " Cudwallop, sir. It was the most unlikely name I could think of at short notice. The lady asked me to repeat it and looked as if she wanted to laugh. Said she'd never heard of the name, but seeing that she'd only been living in Bidleigh a few weeks the gentleman I wanted might be a near neighbour for all she knew. Had I come far? I told her I had come from Barndale."

' The lady asked whether I wouldn't like a cup of tea and a piece of cake. I thanked her very much, but said I must be getting along. Then she asked whether I would do her a favour. 'Certainly, madam,' I replied. 'Just wait a moment, 'then,' sshe said, and hurried down the garden into the bungalow." " Go on, Walter," urged Pondleton. " Cut it short, my boy." " When she returned, sir, she was carrying a small parcel and an envelope. ' Will you be kind enough to slip this envelope into Mr. Pondleton's letterbox after the shop is closed,' she said, ' and don't let anybody see you do it. In this parcel you will find a piece of cake—my own make—and something else to-repay you for your trouble.' We exchanged a few more words and then I came away. A very generous lady, sir, and she makes the finest cake I ever tasted." Fumbling inside his jacket, Walter produced a somewhat crumpled envelope and laid it on the counter. " That concludes my report, sir/' Taking up the envelope, Pondleton went to the cash desk and slit it open. Turning it over, he shook out —a pansy! For a full minute he stared at the velvety blossom and the colour deepened in his cheeks. " Good Heavens! " he whispered. " It's an invitation, that's what it is! She must ho a widow. She might be passing this shop at any time and the pansy's a hint! " Ho peered furtively over the side of the desk and then raised the pansy to his lips. "But what about those letters? H'm, to-morrow's early closing. day, fortunately. I'll take a' trip to BidSeigh and clear the matter up. Good Lor'! I feel as if I was twenty-two again 1 " At three o'clock on the . following 1 afternoon Mrs. Jardine,,, was kneeling on the newly-made gravel path in her garden hard at work transferring plants from a box to the flowerbed. Absorbed in her occupation, she was humming an old love song when a creaking of the fence in front of her prompted her to raise her eyes. At the sight of a man's face she gave vent to a stifled scream.

"Pansy!" whispered Pondleton hoarsely. "It-it's all right—it's George! " "George?" faltered Mrs. Jardine. Good gracious mo, how did you discover where I was living, George*? " " Through a blackmailing woman," replied Pondleton, grinning happily! " I say, Pansy, you look just the same as» you did thirty years ago, only—onlv more so." *

I should have known you anywhere, George," declared Mrs. Jardine, rising to her feet as gracefully as her full figure would allow. " You always gave promise of filling out into a fine big man. But don't stand there—come round—Oh!" She hesitated, and betrayed some confusion. " I'm afraid I can't ask you to .come round, George. I m all alone just at present, vou know. I had to get rid of my maid without notice this morning. 1 found she had forced the lock of an old desk and stolen some —some things I valued very highly. Luckily I'm on the telephone, and I threatened to send for the..village constable if she'd didn't give them up and leave the house at once."

" , The—er—things you valued so highly, Pansy—were they letters, by any chance?"

"Why, yes, George, they were." " The letters I wrote to you in the old days. Pansy?" " Good gracious! How did you guess that, George?" exclaimed Mrs. Jardine, in astonishment.

" Oh, a. tall, scraggy, heavily-veiled woman calling herself Pansy came into the shop yesterday morning, and wanted to sell me "those letters for a couple of hundred. She said Tom had died some years ago and left hef very litle, having lost pretty well all he had backing horses." "The wicked woman!" cried Mrs. Jardine,, scarlet with indignation. " Poor Tom died just a year ago, and left me very comfortably off. I don't think he ever had a penny bet on a horse in his life."

" That's all right, Pansy," said Pondleton, soothingly. "She didn't deceive me for a moment. I set one or two traps for her, and she fell into 'em properly." "You ought to have given the wretch in charge, George!" Pondleton shook his head slowly. "I wanted to get those letters out of her hand, Pansy. They were proper loveletters, you know, and—" Mrs. Jardine blushed. " What did you do, then, George?" she asked, quickly. .<■' "To keep her quiet for the time being, Pansy, I promised to have the money ready for her on Friday; and as soon as she left the shop told my assistant to follow her and find out • where she was living." " Your assistant?" Mrs. Jardine smiled reminisoently. " That was the sharp little fellow whj wanted to find , a man of the name of Wadcopper, I suppose?" " Todbottle—wasn't it?" chuckled Pondleton. He looked at his watch, and cleared his thrpat nervously. " There's a train to the old town in half an hour's time,- Pansy," he murmured, looking up at the sky and then down at the ground. " I wonder whether you'd care .to come and have tea with a miserable old»batchelor at the bun shop in the High Street?" Mrs. Jardine hesitated a moment, and then began to pack up her gardening tools. " I don't know, George, I'm sure* I don't like leaving those letters—"

" Bring 'em with you, Pansy," urged Pondleton. " You might like to read 'em through while you're having tea, and—and imagine I've just written 'om!"