MAN FROM THE AIRPORT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22983, 10 March 1938, Page 25

MAN FROM THE AIRPORT

By LESLIE BERESFORD Author of " Mr. Appleton Awakes," ' The Other Mr. etc.

(Copyright)

A ROMANCE OF THE AIR, ADVENTURE, UNWANTED WEALTH AND " THE SWEETEST STORY EVER TOLD."

CHAPTER IV.—(Continued) On the terraces,. with their little tables, parties laughed and talked and sang, to the lilt of dance bands. It was all done so as to keep within the Jaw, although there had lately been an outcry in the newspapers over the wild "bottle parties'' 1 known to tuke place in such establishments, and stories of high stakes lost over cards. Yet mere disclosure had in no way lessened the irresponsible gaiety of "The One-eyed Moon," and those whose curs were parked thickly in the biji space reserved for them, a space which adjoined a landing ground for patrons with private 'planes. One of the last, a beautiful blonde, was the central figure of a mixed party —they were in evening dress and sat on one of the terraces at a large glistening chromium and glass table. The blonde's lovely face wore such a discontented expression that the man at her side rallied her on her mood. "What's wrong with you, Paula?" he asked laughingly. "You're too crabbed for words lately." "Crabbed?" She eyed him with distaste, unsmilingly, and shrugged. "Nothing so exciting as that!" she went on in her cool voice. "I just wish I could work myself up into a good murderous rage over something, lerry. But everything's a Hop—a silly, uninteresting flop." "Says she, owning enough to buy half the world!" laughed somewhat enviously a little pale-faced girl, whose jet-black' hair and eyes contrasted vividly with her white skin. "Exactly why, Constance!" the other retorted, gazing languidly across at those darkling eyes. She knew that the girl hated her, aud the reaison lay with the man whom next her blue eyes studied with a little glitter of amusement. Like herself, he was fair, with crisply curling hair crowning a boyish face which suggested no strength of character, yet was singularly attractive. He spoke now. "I say, Paula," he said complainingly. "You're a bit of a —what d'you call it?—yes, an enigma, you know. Always crying for the moon —" "And here wo are in a one-eyed one," interrupted the dark-haired girl, and leaned forward, a smile creasing her lips. "By the way, Paula," she went on, "people are saying that you've a financial interest in this place. I heard it again at the Grand Seigneur last night. They said that you and Emil Luttner —well, that really he was jusi your manager here—" "Did they, Constance?" The blonde laughed softly. It so happened that, just at this moment, the German manager himself, wellgroomed and polished in manner, appeared at the table. "Everything is all right, Miss Accington?" he asked in his guttural English, bowing and .smiling. "No, it isn't, Emil," came the reply. "What do you think? Here's Constance Willard telling me that the West End is full of rilinours about, -me owniug this place, or some such silly thing—" "JNot silly,-Miss Accrington!" The German intervened, with a suave little bow, his hand over his heart, a smile on his lips. "No, not silly. But very regrettably untrue. I only wish it were a fact —" "Thanks, Emil, for quashing such a stupid rumour," interrupted in turn Paula Accrington, and turned to the dark-haired girl with an icy little laugh. "You hear, Constance? Next time you feel like making mischief about me. you'd bettor think twice." "I—making mischief about you, Paula?" The other eyed her in seeming amazement, and began at once to protest: "I only repeated vchab other people had told me, Paula. I swear —" "I say, Constance, do let's keep the party clean I" came suddenly from the young man sitting next to Paula. "Swearing's rotten bad form, and I hate women doing it anyhow. Paula, let's go dancing." She hesitated for a moment, then rose to her feet and moved away from the table. As she did this, the German manager met her eyes for a nioment. In spite of what he had just said, there was something in his expression which —if anyone at the table had noticed it —would hsiye suggested knowledge of some understanding between them. The young man with Paula Accrington had, in fact, caught that exchange of understanding glances. One could see from his face that he did not like it. She and he had been dancing together only a few minutes to the thrumming of the band, in which a male crooner hummed the melody of the refrain, when he deliberately drew her from the crush to the comparative quiet of an alcove. "Listen here, Paula," lie said impatiently, "I'm fed to the teeth with this, and it's time you knew it." "Boy— 1 —" sho responded airily in a tired voice, "you couldn't possibly be more fed than I am. Things are absolutely at a dead-end with me. If only I could get a good break ; " "Don't talk such utter drivel, Paula!" he interrupted her, sharply seizing her by her bare arms and shaking her in a sudden outburst of anger. "A break P" he echoed in scorn. "What sort of a break? Why, you've got everything you could possibly want " "Terry " she interrupted him in turn in her cool, aloof voice " it seemed to me that you were the person who started off with a grievance " "Yes, and a good one," he said moodily. "I want to know this, Paula. Just what is there between you and that German fellow, Luttner?" "Between Emil and me?" Sho laughed, her brows arched in surprise. "What could there possibly be between a girl in my position and a man in his —I ask you, Terry?" "Quito a good deal, Paula," he answered, his eyes studying her accusingly as lie added: "Anyhow, from the look I caught him giving you as wo , were corning away just now " "Don't be such an absolute fool, Terry!" she stopped him impatiently. "What's the matter with you to-night V Have you had too much to drink P" "If I'm drunk—it's with love for you," he retorted, and caught her by a wrist. "See hero, Paula. I just can't go on like this. No man would stand for it. You're so beastly casual about everything. Of course, I can guess why You've the Accrington millions behind you, while I'm just Terry Carlton, songwriter, who happened to have made a success." "Now you're being vulgar as well as silly, Terry," sho said, and laid a hand on his arm. "What is all this aboutP" she asked, her voice softening. "We're being married in a fortnight, as everyone knows." "That's just it," he said. "It's everyone's business more than our own. And I'm not so sure that I'm going 011 with it." "What?" She stared at him in surprise. "Not suro that we're being married?" "Not by a long way," ho retorted "Matter of fact, the betting's against it at the moment, bo far as I'm concerned, Paula. I may be in love with you T am—terrihlv. worse luck "

"Worse luck—?" she echoed qtiestioningly, the colour hot in her cheeks, her eyes shining with anger and surprise. "That's what 1 said, Paula, and 1 mean it," he responded. "lt ! 6 time we came to an understanding, 1 think. You can't be allowed to go on imagining that you and your money are everything, and every, man's going to fall for them. I'm not. You can take it from 111 c. In particular, I'm not standing for whatever there may be between you and this German blighter of a manager " "Darling Terry- !" Paula leaned toward him, her voice suddenly soft, a caressing ripple of reassurance. "You surely don't believe there is anything in that, my dear? Just because Constance Willard tried to make mischief " "Nothing of the sort!" ho interrupted her. "Connie only repeated what she had heard, what everyone's saying. I'm saying just what I believe to be the truth. I believe—l'm quite sure—there's something between you and that German. And I'm not talking about business, dither. 1 don't like the way lie looks at you, or the way you look at him." "You don't, Terry?" Her voice was chill as ice now,, and she shrugged. "No," he said. "And, unless you put him definitely out of. the picture, Paula, there'll be no weddipg between you and nie in a fortnight—" She interrupted him with cool, emotionless laughter. "Heally, Terry, you're too funny for words," she said. "Be reasonable. There's nothing between Emil Luttner and me. I've told you that already. Why can't my word be good enough for you?" "It would be, Paula, darling, if only you were a little mare human," he answered emotionally, and gestured with impatience. "It's that infernal money of yours," he said. "I believe, if it wasn't for that, we'd be happy enough. Why can't you give it away—?" "And live on your song-writing?" she mocked, laughing, and shook her golden curls. "Too much like backing an outside chance." "So that's how you look on me?" He spoke slowly, after an interval of such silence as was permitted by the thrumming dance-bar.d not far away. "It isn't good enough, Paula," he said. "No, I'm beginning to see daylight. Connie Willard was right, and I've been a blind fool. She said you hadn't an ounce of love in you, that you counted everything in pounds, shillings and_ pence, thought you could buy everything and everyone—" "So that's it?" she interrupted, suddenly raging, and laughed. "Connie's behind the whole thipg, is she? Well, 1 don't mind, Terry. Go back tQ Connie, if you feel like it. I don't ip&Tp. Maybe it's all for the best. I tyasj longing for something exciting to happen to-night. A broken engagement seems quite a good start —" > She stopped suddenly, her attention distracted by noises of violent protest in the dance-room beyond the alcove. One could just see from where they sat something of the dance-floor. A portion of the orchestra. Some of the swirling dancers, who had suddenly ceased to swirl. Everything had come to a standstill. , Members of the orchestra, and such dancers as were within sight, were staring alarmedly at something happening in a hidden distance. Paula Accrington stepped out from the alcove, gazed for a moment, and then turned to her companion. ..."Excitement has arrived, Terry!" she said laughingly. He took his place by her side to see for himself what was causing the disturbance, the strange hush which was broken now only by the frightened little exclamations of women. A number of blue-uniformed policemen made a startling and grim contrast to the brightness of women's frocks. Terry laughed. "I knew it was bound to happen," he said. "Your road-house has been raided." Paula swung round op him in a sudden and tense anger. "My road-house? I've told you, Terry, that I've nothing to do with this place." Chin in air, golden head flung defiantly back, she moved straight toward the motionless bunches of people who had earlier beeji dancing, and now were gaping at the policemen in alarm and confusion. One of the policemen stopped Paula as she was making for the cloak-room. "Not just yet. miss," he said in his voice. "You keep right here with the rest. We can't have any stray lambs leaving the fold." "Why—what's the matter?" she asked with the most, innocent of voices and expressions. She was not answered by the policeman, but by a man in evening-dress, who emerged from the bunch of dancers. "!Miss Accrington. 1 believe?" he asked. "Of course," she answered, staring at him disdainfully. "I am Detective-Inspector Hayes," ho bowed stiffly "Really? 1 don't know that I'm interested. Why should 1 be, anyhow?" she laughed. "Perhaps it would be better, Miss Accrington, if we discussed that elsewhere," suggested the detective. Tlio onlooking crowd stepped back j as he began to move toward the suite of j rooms which were the offices of "The One-eyed Moon." Paula followed him, with To-ry Carlton at her heels. He, caught her by a wrist, whispering: "Listen, Paula. If there's going to be ] any trouble —" _ I "There isn't," she interrupted him. "It's going to be real fun." The private office had already been invaded by police, , who had the German manager with them. A smug smile curled his lips as Paula and the others entered and the door was shut by the inspector. "I'm sorry to interfere with your pleasure. Miss Accrington," the latter remarked. "I understand from tho manager here. Mr. Luttner, that you are in fact the real proprietor of this place." Paula sat down in a chair rather abruptly, though she appeared quite cool and collected, even smiling, her blue eyes gazing at the inspector. "One of those cases where tho police make mistakes." she said. "1 don't know what Mr. Luttner has told you—" "It is not what I have told him. Miss Accrington," the German's . gutturals broke into her chill, liquid voice. "The police have been making separate inquiries. They have discovered that a good deal of your money is behind tho 'One-eyed Moon.' I could not very well deny that, could IP" "Why should you?" she flashed at him and tho others, then added: "All the same, that doesn't make me responsible for the place and what goes on in it, does itP" "The magistrates will inform you on that point later, Miss Accrington, when the case comes up," the inspector intervened, adding that there_ would bo a police charge for maintaining an establishment where tho law was being broken as to drinking and gambling. "And what would bo the punishment?" she asked, "always supposing that I were proved to have had anything to do with such a stupid business?'' "That would depend on the magistrates." lie answered. "A fine, of course—" "Oh, if that's all. it doesn't matter." Paula laughed. "Meantime, Inspector, what do you want with me? Have I to go to prison 9 That would bo an experience, anyhow." (To be continued daily)