FREEDOM FOR TWO

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22971, 24 February 1938, Page 23

FREEDOM FOR TWO

(COPYRIGHT)

CHAPTER IX.—(Continued) "At this moment," said Jon, "I would lay any odds that Martin is handling or planning to handle someone else's property. I don't know; it's simply that I knotf him." "It's a lie. If all this had been true, you would have warned me from the first." "How could I? I loved you; from the very first day I loved you; and I wanted you to bo happy; and you believed in him so. Oh, he's a wonderful person, a brilliant, scintillating, restless person; but excitement is his life, and he gets it where and how he can. He hasn't any moral sense; that's all. I hoped he'd change; I thought you could change anyone; so I gave him his chance. But now I'm fighting for myself; because I love you far too much to lose you to him without a word." Erica drew a deep breath. "It's quite useless. Even if everything you say is 'true, I'm his wife, and I shall stick to him. I don't believe it; I can't; but if it should—" Her voice snapped in an ugly sob and she dropped her head into her hands. It was all so circumstantial; tho smuggling, the gun-running, tho present mysterious absence about which he could not tell her, "because it was someone else's secret." And what did she know about him, after all? It was astonishing how little one could know of one's own husband. Except, of course, that she loved him! That had never been so plain. "I'm sorry you had to be hurt," said Jon. "I know you've loved him. But he was a mistake—your mistake. And you've a lifetime left. If you should want me, or my help—everything I have is at your disposal. I know enough to put him in prison for years; but for your sake I can and will keep silent, whatever happens." She said, in a broken whisper: "Please take me home!" She had not quite understood even then that he was threatening her. She knew only that he was the one solid thing in her reeling world, and that he had, even in the moments when he was a monster, a strange sort of cynical, inverted chivalry about him. He had done his work for that night. Behind her bowed shoulder he glanced swiftly at his wrist-watch; then lie slipped within her arm a hand which might have been a brother's, and took her back to her hotel. CHAPTER X. JEWEL ROBBERY Erica lay awake most of the night, trying in vain to collect her thoughts into some sort of order. She was not, she hoped, the most gullible of women. She would not, for the sake of one person's opinion, revoke her whole system of ideas about a man she valued more than anyone else in the world. But if she assumed that Jon's whole story was a tissue of lies, there remained some awkward points to bo explained away. Jon knew all about the early Australian adventure, and about the Central American one-ship line; so much was plain; but whoso version of these things was the true one. Martin's, of course 1 But why should Jon lie about it? She had said that she would stick to Martin even if he were a criminal; and Jon had accepted her statement without question. Why, then should he persist in—no, she could not call it blackening Martin, for it was not quite that —in explaining him in criminal terms ?

Besides, Jon had a true way and a straight look. They could be assumed, of course, but not often so perfectly. And there was this wretched business of to-night. Where had Martin really gone, and for what purpose? Why should his eyes shine in that dangerous way unless there was risk in the business in hand? And—whisper this, even to your mind, because it's the most insidious treason — would it bo surprising if Martin, with his recklessness, and his daring, and his thirst for the unusual, did in his heart despise the laws of property? Would it really be so very odd if he got a spied to his life out of smuggling, and gunrunning, and that last, barely-men-tioned crime, burglary? She felt sick, and frightened, and disloyal. It was the scone with Jon which had upset her, of course. In the morning she would laugh at herself for believing even for a moment in the possibility of such things. And Jon! she must not see him again. Or stay, had he hinted that she must? That she must show him a little consideration or take the consequences ? The consequences, of course, being Martin's imprisonment on Jon's evidence. Did he really know anything to her husband's discredit? Even supposing there was anything to know —which of course there wasn't —did he know it? Could he prove anything wrong ? Of course ho couldn't. There was nothing to prove. Tossing and turning wretchedly, she fell asleep at last out of sheer exhaustion. awoke in tho late morning, for the ntoment unsconscious of any disturbance of her mental peace. She even uttered sleepily to Martin's empty bed that it was a lovely morning. Then she remembered, and it was no longer lovely; but more by reason of Martin's absence than because any slur had been cast on him. She knew, with the calm confidence of daylight, that Jon had told a pack of lies to bewilder her. She knew that Martin was perfect; that everything he did was right. She sang as she dressed, so that a few people passing in the street below her open window glanced up as they walked.

"I hope Martin comes back to-day," she told her mirror, combing her brown hair before it. It had grown rather long; she thought she would occupy the morning with a trim and a shampoo. The hairdresser offered her a morning paper to read while her hair was being cut. "It's useless to me," said Erica, smiling. "I have the English papers, too." "No thanks. You tell ine the local news, instead." The girl told. Madame was tho Madame who sang, was she not? There had been a performance at the opera on which the critics were lyrical. No doubt the English critics were also lyrical when Madame sang. And even she, who knew very little about music, had thought how beautiful when Madame sang in her room. There was a big headline in this morning's paper. There had been a robbery, here in Stockholm, and the thief had got away with jewels worth thousands and thousands of kronen. It had happened on one of tho islands beyond tho harbour; and the robbers had got away in a fast motor-boat, although the police had been watching. And one of the policemen in the pursuing boat had been shot and wounded, and the boat put out of action. She thought it must have been thrilling. Of course, she expected tho jewels had been heavily insured but they were very old, and very famous, and she did not suppose the money would console Madame

By MARGARET WATSON A STORY OF LOVE THAT ENDURED THROUGH STORM AND STRESS, A LOVE THAT WAS BIG ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND |

Bjornson and her daughters. It was a shame, was it not, that the property of private individuals should not be better protected ? Everyone was talking about it. Erica sat quite still. It had all come back, the horror, .the fear, in redoubled measure; for now the doubt, all in a moment, looked like certainty. She was astonished at the calm of her own voico as it asked: "When did this happen? Tell me all it says." "Soon after midnight last night. It says that the police had wind of a plan to break into the house, and were watching for the thieves all along one shore of the island, where they had agreed to land. But they think tha gang must have been warned that they were expected, for they approached from the other shore. Imagine, it is almost a cliff! You would say impossible to land there, but they did it. One man climbed, it says, but they do not know how he effected entrance to the house. He must have been very, very daring and clever. The police knew nothing until they saw the boat withdrawing. They gave chase, and then the bandits —imagine it! —opened fire 011 them, and put their engine out of action, and wounded one policeman. Is it not a terrible thing that villains should be allowed to shoot people, and steal from them, like that?" Erica was silent. It was all too terrible to bo true, and yet there were the facts of it in black and white, for everyone to read. Martin stole jewels worth thousands and thousands of kronen from the summer residence of Mr. Bjornson. Martin shot at and wounded a policeman. The analogy was far too perfect now to admit of any mistake, or to be explained away by any theory of coincidence. The messenger who spoke secrets in German, the great white house on the distant islet, Martin's eyes seeking it out speculatively, contentedly, excitedly, from the tower of St. Nicholas, his change of plans, his story of sudden urgent business on Nordholm, his mention of the Bjornsons and their wealth, his refusal to confide in her, every detail fitted into place like a piece of jigsaw puzzle. Of course, he could not tell her, trust her as deeply as he might. It had been tha gang's secret. And why, unless he was prime mover in the affair, had it been necessary to summon him at all? She could guess, now, what that message in German had been. "We have the boat ready and the time-table worked out according to your orders; but we think there's been a leakage. What shall wo do?" And the reply: "I'll come myself. If the whole of the secret police are camped round Nordholm, we're striking to-night." She said in a voice whose detached calm she could still admire: "I don't think I'll have the shampoo, after all. I've just remembered an appointment I must keep."

She rushed back to her room. It was true that she had remembered something, but it was not an appointment; it was a folded news-sheet, still crammed into the big handbag which had honeymooned with her in Dalgano. Kneeling upon the rug, she pulled it out with tremulous fingers, and spread it before her. Something round and shining slipped unnoticed from the folds, and fell silently upon the thick rug.

There it was, the confirmation of her certainty; tho account of a jewel robbery which had taken place in Dalgano on the night when she had supposed Martin to be away upon Koranto.

How well she remembered, now, what she had said to him then in jest: "Just fancy. Martini While I was sleeping, and you were sticking to the side of Koranto Ifko a fly, some industrious person was breaking and entering, and getting away with a haul worth no end of money." And Martin had replied—how significantly she saw now for the first time: "Serve them right I (rood luck to the enterprising Raffles, say I." Erica felt suddenly feeble, and rather sick j conscious too, that tnis was the first real crisis of her life, and that if she could face up to it she had not altogether failed herself. What were the mere thrills of a risky ski-run, what were the tenuous moments of fear in snow-storms on Koranto, compared with this deep and unexpected problem ? She went to the telephone and rang tip Jon. Her hands Mere quite steady; so was the voice in which she asked: "May I speak to Mr. Bernstorn, please?" The cool voice of the girl Dagmar began to say: "I'm afraid that's impossible; he—" Then there was a, second of silence: and after it, the voice of Jon himself, pitched rather lower than usual. "Is that you, Erica? I've been out —just got back this moment. Yes. Yes, I heard. Yes, I've seen the papers." She asked slowly: "What am I to do?" "Nothing—until I come. Stay in your room; I'm coming to you now, at once. And don't worry, too much; because whatever happens I'll see to it that you're all right." She said, with sudden urgency: Its not for myself I'm worried." "I know that. But we must see what can be done. Martin will be all right for a short time, at any rate." "A matter of hours, I suppose?" A pause; then reluctantly: "I'm afraid so. But —we can't talk like this. I'll come over straight away." When he came there was no hint in him of the monster she had glimpsed 011 the previous night. He was grave and pale, as if he himself had been through some dreadful strain; and his eyes, though ivorried, had the calm which she had always associated with them, a sort of northern, fatalism. Ho came straight to her, and took her hands. "Poor Erica! I know how you feel. I know how I feel myself. I never thought I should be proved right so soon; and I wish you could still think me a liar, but I know you can't. I'm so dreadfully sorry." Erica said calmly, withdrawing her hands: "There's no need to be sympathetic. Noj I mean it, Jon. I'm not going to bo hysterical, and I haven't any comment to make. I simply want to know what to do. Martin won't come back here,' surely,. will he ? It won't be safe. How can I got into communication with him?" "I might manage it for you. But, Erica, dear, listen to me. You must get out of this place. You must get away while you're still unsuspected. Even Martin wouldn't want Ins wife mixed up in the business; .and there is some danger to you. Ho knows and is known by so many people, and there will surely be some who can connect you with him. It's the only thing to do'. Settle up here and got out, now, this minute." "But where to?" asked Erica helplessly. "To my house. Where else? It's on one of the smallest islands, well out into the Baltic; from there wo can easily get you away by ship. I've got a fast motor-boat; and Martin knows all the skippers along the coast—" "But we don't know where he is!" she cried, with tho first real excitement and distress she had shown. "Can't you tell 1110 where I may find him?—where he's likely to go?" "Yes, I could, but there's 110 time. Don't you see that, Erica? —no time at all." Her face set; she dropped her hands into the cushions, and clenched them there. "I won't go without liim." "No matter what he's done?" "No master what he's done." (To be continued daily)