THE PASS OF PERIL

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22611, 26 December 1936, Page 15

THE PASS OF PERIL

By EDMUND BARCLAY Author of " Karona," etc,

CHAPTER, XV. —(Continued) As a matter of fact, British Intelligence did not know that Deeming had actually struck oil, or Myra might have known a vastly different reception. The officers with the green-tabs were not to know that their system of espionage had broken down, and they did not know it until matters had passed almost beyond their control. So Mvra revelled among her trunks, forwarded from Simla undisturbed. 'l'liere was to be a dance at the hotel that night, ami the important matter of an evening frock was in question. For many months, riding-breeches, puttees and tunic, or jodphurs and poloshirts, had been her sensible and everyd;tv attire, but even her somewhat free and easy spirit welcomed the chance of going "all feminine" as she phrased it to herself. The American trade commissioner happened to be staying at the same hotel, and his wife and lie were glad to have .Mvra in their party. She had spent some hectic hours with manicurist and hairdresser, and the result, combined with "something'' which had been jealously guarded in tissue-paper in a leather case by itself, resulted in more stares than was quite polite when she entered the dining room. The "something'' was a creation in a rare velvety stuff of an iridescent- hluey-green reminiscent of sea-depths in sunlight, with two black orchids exquisitely placed just a little below the high waist. The skirt was rather full below the tightly-fitted hips,' so that as she walked in her unusually long and lissom stride, there was an effect of smoothly running waves about her feet. The American trade commissioner soon found, when his party and he entered the ballroom, that he and his wife had more friends among the junior officers stationed at Quetta than he had ever realised. Mvra danced her way through the evening happily enough, for she was not tin; type to find all the joys of life turning sour to her taste, just because one of its greatest joys happened to be out of reach. She danced with subaltern and senior, horse, gun and foot, to say nothing of the supercilious young gentlemen of the Royal Air Force, and had almost managed to forget the ache in her heart, when at last she encountered Colonel Dalrymple, Michael's colonel. He was considerably more surprised than she, and his obvious perturbation of spirit- enabled her to recover her momentary lost poise. With Colonel Dalrymple was a tall fair girl with large violet eyes, slender and shapely in a. frock of powder-blue. After the colonel's stammered greeting, the two girls looked at each other so obviously desirous of an introduction, that the colonel effected it before lie quite realised what lie was doing, after which he beat a hasty retreat to the bar and solaced himself with a stiff whiskv Peg-, "So this was Michael's Ruth," thought Mvra, frankly admitting to herself, that in her decided English | way, the girl was distinctly beautiful. "This was the girl responsible for those bitter lines that too often marred Michael's smile." Not quite the type Mvra had expected. There was intelligence in those soft eyes, and strength of purpose in the finely-modelled features, which to Mvra were unexpected qualities. This girl was no spoiled Simla pet, playing with the affections of a man too good for her. What was it, j then, that kept them apart? Memories ' of the old Simla gossip came to her mind . . . the death of Ruth's brother, which, it was whispered, was somehow Michael's fault, although nobody quite knew how it happened. The story had j been hushed up, and although it was : bruited about that Colonel Dalrymple, | and a certain native officer, together ! with an English trooper could tell a i fine story if they thought fit, nobody : dared to ask. Mvra thought that she knew the ! native officer, and the trooper con- | corned, so that she looked at the girl with renewed interest. Was there here something she could do for Michael ? Upon hearing Mvra's name, and after the cmbarassed colonel had left them, Ruth looked thoughtfully at the American girl for a moment. Where had she heard the girl's name before? It was something in connection with Michael. Was this the girl who had been at Walizanee while she herself was there, although they had never met? Yes, this must be the girl, who had saved Michael's life, up at that fort, during the night attack. Colonel Dalrymple had told her that upon his return. He had also told her, what lie had no business to tell, that Michael was still engaged in special duty up in that direction. So then this strik-ingly-dressed and attractive girl may have seen Michael recently. Moved, as by one accord, the two girls walked slowly out of the ballroom and found for themselves a quiet corner on the terrace, where being once comfortably ensconced, they rapidly and skilfully piloted themselves through the shoals of polite conversation until they had at last attained the deeper waters desired by both. "I believe, Miss Deeming," said Ruth, trying to keep her voice coo! and placid, "that you have just come from over the border, where you shared one or two rather exciting experiences with an old friend of mine?"

"Do you mean, Michael?" was the direct answer. Iviil.li smiled faintly. "You must know Captain Garvie rather well," she said. "it vou already call him, Michael." "Not so well, hut that he gets hot under the collar every time 1 do use his first name." There was a hint of mockery in Myra's rejoinder, which made Hut It rather uneasy, and more than a little inclined to he hostile. "Colonel Dairy tuple told me that yon saved .Michael's life during a liight attack on the format Walizauee." Myra wonderwn just how much Ruth knew about recent events in Walizanee. Not much, she Jiopcd and believed. "Michael did as much for me," drawled Myra. "That sort of thing seems to lie an everyday event, over the border.'' "It would have been something more than that to me, if you had not been there to help Michael," came the soft answer. Myra hesitated for the fraction of a second, and then tilting her chin in a characteristic gesture, she took her fences boldly. "So then. Miss Convers, Michael does mean something to you ? The general impression seems to be that he doesn't." "You have no right to ask me that." The violet eyes became icy-blue in their anger, but Myra smiled to herself as she saw Until made no move to go away. "Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Conyers, that you would get on a whole lot better with Michael in particular and the world in general, if you didn't stand on your dignity so much? I guess it must make one feel awfully lonely at times, being dignified P" Kuth gasped, but there was an intensity of feeling in the splendid figure facing her, a depth of understanding and sympathy in those cool green eyes, and a soft inflection ill that quaint Western drawl which robbed the words of their crudeness and made them stand out in all their discernment and truth. "I don't think you understand, Miss Deeming ?" "I know that Michael wants you, and I think you want him, there is nothing to keep you apart as far as I can see, Miss Conyers, absolutely nothing. Of course, you can say, and quite rightly, that its none of my business, but you came with me to this quiet spot out of the hot ballroom, just to hear me talk about Michael, so you can't complain if the conversation becomes a little more intimate than you anticipated."

(COPYIUGIIT)

A STORY OF THRILLING ADVENTURE AND A GREAT LOVE

This was the truth also, and Ruth know it, n iul with a slow smile, acknowledged it. "Vow say there is nothing to keep Michael and me apart," she said slowly. "1 don't know, Miss Deeming, whether you have anybody who is very near and dear to you?" Anybody!" 1 Mvra's heart whispered "Micliael . . . Michael," but her voice was i'airlv steady as she replied, "Pop and 1 are pretty close, if that is what you mean?" Ruth paused for a second, struggled with her innate reserve, and then spoke quickly, softly, but unashamedly emotionally. ".Miss Deeming," she said, "supposing the man you loved had left your father to die in his place, and . . ." she got no further, for Myra interrupted, and there was such a ring in her voice, and such an iridescent blaze iu her sea-green eyes that Ruth's mental barriers- were penetrated insl ant Iv. "I'll suppose nothing of the sort, .Miss Convers," snapped Myra, "Michael and me and pop have been in one or two nasty jams up there over the border, and L know what sort of a man your Michael is. He couldn't—just couldn't do what you think lie did. Oh, I heard that stupid story that was whispered around Simla over the teacups, but 1 just don't believe it." "But Michael practically admitted it himself," protested Ruth. "If Micliael admitted that to you, then it should be all the more reason why you should disbelieve it. If Michael played the coward once, he would have played it twice. . . Ho would never have faced you again. . . . Oh, my dear, can't you see that." Why, yes, of course she could, now. Oh, blind, stupid, egotistical little fool that she had been. Why couldn't she have seen a tiling so obvious as that?j This American girl had seen it at once. She, Ruth, had loved Michael, still loved him, and yet she had been blind to something the American girl had seen immediately. Ruth's eyes widened and her heart beat a little faster as she looked at Mvra's glorious beauty. Jf Myra knew Michael as well as her words portended, then she also must. . . . must. . . Then as Ruth remembered Michael's last letter from the blockhouse at Kliyber, her fears were still and her heart comforted. "1 realise that I have been unjust to Michael," said Ruth after a long, silent pause, "but even now my brother's death is still between us, keeping us apart. There is a mystery attached to the manner of his dying. Surely you must admit that. Can't you see that there can lie no happiness for either of us, until that mystery, whatever it is, is dispelled?" "Oh, yes, I can see that," replied the girl promptly. "I'm not going to pretend that everything in love's garI den is lovely, in the face of a thing like that; but I guess the point is, what steps are you taking to solve that mystery? Or do you intend to sit down, and let it keep you apart for the rest of your life?" "But if Michael simply won't tell me, what can I do?" was the almost impatient rejoinder. I "If Michael's keeping something back it's in order to. . . ." Myra stopped abruptly, as the truth of it all dawned upon her. Michael was hiding the truth in order to spare Ruth's feelings, to save her from some great hurt. There could be no other reason. Michael was shielding Ruth's brother. Just how or why, Myra had 110 means of knowing, but she knew so much, knew it as plainly as if Michael himself had told her.

Just what a dear, foolish soul like Michael would do. He had more insight than most men she knew, but could blunder stupidly when handling such a paradoxical mixture of personal pride and personal self-sacrifice as was found in the soul of a woman. Ho had dealt Ruth one hurt, in order to spare her another. If Michael had seen fit to do this, she, not being acquainted with the actual facts, dare not disclose any of this to Ruth. She might only make matters worse. But the fighting spirit within her was not going to be beaten; She would find her way out. It was not until the end of the interview that she fully realised that in showing Ruth the way out, she had barred the gates to her own happiness. "I think i know enough of Michael to realise that there's 110 moving him in this matter, Miss Conyers," she said. "Who else do you think, knows the truth?" "Colonel Dalrymple," answered Ruth slowly. "Subahdar Hira Trewarri, of Michael's troop, and almost certainly, Michael's orderly, an English trooper named Clark, 1 think." "Then keep pepping away at one of them until you get at the truth. That's my advice, Miss Conyers." "Question Michael's officers and men ? Do you know what you are suggesting, Miss Deeming?" Myra was torn between a desire to laugh and to cry at one and the same time. How British was this objection .... how very, very British! "I suppose I've boon brought up in a rougher school than you, .Miss Conyers," she said, making no attempt now to hide the mockery in her voice, "but I know I'd rather be right down unladylike just for once, than to spend the rest of my life eating m.v own regrets." This vivid phraseology brought Ruth face to face with reality, and she capitulated without further protest. "Not the colonel," she said. "He will never tell me anything." "The Subahdar is your man, I think," said Myra.

"Win - not the trooper? He at least, is English." "I should have thought (hat to ho an excellent reason 'why not,' Miss ('onyers," was the smiling answer. "I think you've got a hotter chance with the Hindu. Thev look at things differently from what av<; do. There's just a chance that he can see no point in keeping the whole affair such a. close mystery. Ask the Suhahdar. Don't lose a dav."

"When arc you going to go hack to your father, Miss .Deeming? Might I travel with you?"' This ciiiik! like; a shock of icy water to Myra. So then Michael was not hero in British India. Jle was hack in Walizanee? Her mind worked at desperate speed. Ruth did not know of the enmity between the .Dee tilings and the British—that close-mouthed Colonel had told her little or nothing, hut he had told her obviously, where Michael was, and that was why Ruth wished to travel back with her, If Michael was still 011 the warpath, then her father and she could look for trouble, and quickly. She must do in Quetfa what she had to do at once, charter a private plane through her unsuspecting friend the American Commissioner, and got baftk to her father as quickly as possible. Her ardour in Michael's cause had led her into a situation which held distinctly unpleasant potentialities for her lather s affairs in Walizanee. There \vas no legitimate reason why sho should refuse to let Ruth accompany her, and if she did so, Ruth might disclose that fact to that hard-bitten, old Colonel, and give him exercise for his thoughts, the last thing Myra desired. She supposed that by now the British must know that they were after oil. Michael would have told them that, but there was no reason why they should know any more. "I am flying back to my father tomorrow, Miss Conyers," she hazarded. "May I come hack with you? I know that Michael will bo there eventually. Colonel Dalrymple told me so." There was nothing for Myra to do but to assent, with a deep reluctance sho was at great pains to conceal. (To be continued daily)