AFRICA FLIGHT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23121, 20 August 1938, Page 19 (Supplement)

AFRICA FLIGHT

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued) " r you are," said Carol. "That was what I meant. You're running away from it—from me—aren't you? " There was a moment of silence. " Yes," said Rupert Larrimore. Over his shoulder he could hear a clock ticking. It was odd somehow that a clock could tick quite so loudly—- " Well, llupert? » " Well? I answered your question. I have been—l am a coward. What more do you expect? " Carol's eyes dropped. "I —I don't know. But surely something? " " You want mo to put it into words. That 1 love you? " She forced a gallant smile. " Girls aro supposed to like to hear it put into words, you know." "Well, there you aro —it's put. What more? Do you want mo to throw up my hat, grin like a dog, and run about the city?" "Don't, Rupert, ploaso. Aren't you —glad?" "No." said Larrimore decisively, "I'm not."' The girl flushed. "Don't misunderstand me," Larrimore went on hurriedly. "It's not being easy for me " Ho broke off. Carol drew >:« deep breath. "Father won't mind," she said, "if that's what's worrying you. He's developed rather a good opinion of you lately, And, as you're making me do all the talking—Rupert, I don't." Larrimore stiffened all over. It was as if his face lighted up in the most curious way, achieving at that instant what was almost beauty. He moved forward, lifting his hands. But just as they were about to clasp the girl's shoulders, he checked himself with a violent effort. "Of course. Daddy might prefer us to get the flight over before the engagement was announced," went on Carol quietly. "Carol please 1" Larrimore thrust his hands into his pockets, as though otherwise he could not trust them not to betray him. Tho girl smiled. "Oh, 1 know it's old-fashioned of mo and all that, but I've got to be serious for a minute or two. Of course I love you. But I never meant to tell you." "I know. Rupert, why?" "Because it's all wrong." He picked up a silver snuff-box off the mantelpiece behind him, and twisted it in his fingers, "in my bones I know it's all wrong!" Carol's face did not change. "Because of that stupid business of the court-martial?" Larrimore scowled. "If you don't listen to me quietly for a minuto, Carol, I'll probably break your pretty neck! This isn't amusing for me, you know. For you it's just another seal]). But for me it's " "Do von think that I've just been amusing myself with you?" cried Carol indignantly. "No, Carol, I don't. Which only makes it worse. I believe you do love .me. And I don't give a hoot for your father, or for all the court-martials in England!" She put her hand gently on his sleeve but he jibbed away from her. "What is it, my dear? Tell me."

He put back the snuff-box, and made a cramped, baffled little gesture with one hand. "It just won't do, Carol. Wo don't—fit in. We'd never be happy in a hundred years!" - ....... « "We shan't'be bothering about happiness in a hundred years," laughed the girl. But Larrimore was not to be put off his stroke. He suddenly achieved fluency, sluicing out his words, and hammering home his points - with one clenched fist: "Will you listen to me? You, or your image are with me all the time—ever since the day I let you handle those controls. I ought to have been shot for doing that! I don't suppose that you realise that I expected you to send us both to everlasting smash! I'd no right on earth to take that risk—but I didn't care!" "Go on, Rupert," she whispered. H is mouth twisted savagely. "You see—you're just loving it, aren't you?" he said bitterly. "You've got between me a;id my job, between me and my sleep. You're set so firm and deep in my heart that I'm scared and humble. Me humble 1 You've made me incompetent, and unreliable, and you're glad! Glad because you've won your game; you've changed me. And the worst thing about it all is that I still love you most desperately—even when I know what you've done, and what sort of a person'you are!" He turned his back on her, his face working. Then ho heard her voice over his shoulder, so charmingly steady and clear, that his fretted nerves responded, as a horse will to the hands of a rider who knows his business. "You're only imagining things again, Rupert. Just as you did after tho Heudon smash. But I'm terribly glad you still love me —if that helps at all." "No ? Carol, it won't do! I'm'not fit —that s the long and tho short of it. I'm not talking about 'money and position and all that nonsense. I'm simply not the right person to marry. I'm an everlasting adventurer, and I always shall be to the end of tho chapter."' "So am I—inside me," said the girl firmly. Larrimore forced a smile, "That's gallant, but absurd." "Is it? Incidentally I've had one adventure —sort of semi-engagement that didn't work out." "What!" "Oh no names in the mess, my dear. And please stop looking quite so grim, Rupert. Aro you forgetting that we've admitted to loving each other? I think it would be quite appropriate if you were to kiss me." She stopped back and opened her arms. There was a frightening second's pause while she thought that perhaps sho had failed after all. And then everything was forgotten as she felt herself crushed into Lnrrimore's arms, gripped and kissed as though she would never escape again. When at last sho was given an opportunity, to breathe, she laughed up happily into his face. "How very hard you mado mo •work," she said. And then sho saw, with a relief quite unimaginable, that Rupert was smiling too—and that now his smile did not make his faco look as though it hurt him. "Perhaps you are my kind after all," he said exultantly. "I ought to warn you—after this trip I shall know for sure."

By VAL GIELGUD f (corrnicnT) Author of " Announcer's Holiday," " Beyond Dover," etc.

A story of high courage and adventure with a golden thread of love in its fabrfcc.

"They told mo you were up here, Larrimoro. I wanted —well " Carol's hands flew to her hair. "I'm sorry, sir,' said Larrimore. "I ought to explain that " George Manson began to pour himself a drink, roaring with laughter. "Explain nothing 1" ho chuckled. "Saw it coming. As you seem to bo able to handle the girl, which is more than I ever could, it seems to me that it's just as well as it is! Take my blessing for what it's worth, my dear Larrimoro. The only question is—should the engagement be announced before or after tne—or flight?"

Ho took a pencil out of his pocket, and tapped it against his teeth, Carol and Larrimoro exchanged glances, smiling.

"Well, Larrimore," Sir George went on, "what do you think? Good news angle both ways you know." Larrimore shrugged, and Carol slid her arm through his. "1 think, Daddy," she said firmly, "that we'd rather wait until the flight's safely over. You see, till then I'm still more or less—on approval." "You—or he?" twinkled her father over the rim of his tumbler. "My dear Larrimore, you really have my sympathy. You look like being in for the deuce of a time!' "But that's Rupert's element, Daddy. lie likes coping with devils—and i think he'll cope with this one pretty well." She felt Rupert's fingers tighten over her own. "I promise you," he said, "that I'll do my best." They looked into each other's eyes with a confidence that to George Manson, had something in it of the pathetic. He put down his glass. "You'll excuse me?" he said. "I may as well think about the form in which we'll issue tho announcement. Yes, I'm really very pleased. It should make a capital headline." CHAPTER IX. THE FMGHT BEGINS Five fiours after tho "Star of the East" had taken off from the Croydon Aerodrome on its "epoch-making"—the epithet is from the popular press —flight to cover tho first lap to Cairo, Sir George Manson sat in his office, and smiled cheerfully at his secretary. Beside his desk was every edition of the evening papers. • Each one of them carried the name of Manson in a headline. In Miss Wright's room, Sir George's private tape-machine brought him the hour-to-hour news of the progress of tho great aeroplane. The weather was good . . . the machine was behaving splendidly. . . . Paris had been reached in record time . . . the party was in the best of spirits. . . . "You see, Cynthia," said Sir George, and lighted a cigar, "I was right." Miss Wright said nothing. Contradiction would not have been welcomed. Agreement seemed superfluous. . And in fact George Manson had every reason to be pleased with himself. The press was really most gratifying in the way it had handled the whole matter. Larrimore had proved himself a firstclass man. He and Carol had been different beings since they had. "come to their Rupert had. discarded his aggressive insolence; Carol had been charmingly considerate and affectionate. Janet had brought Hubert to the post complete, as far as could be judged, to the spare sock-suspender. Nigel Kerr thought the _ machine "superb," and as far as Larrimore was concerned was tho complete heroworshipper. Otto Flescli's pictures of the trial flights had made the News Reel people sit up and take notice. The Board of Associated Airways—not that Sir Georgo took much notice of any of his Boards —had said nice things at the last meeting. And there had been a terrific—really staggering—crowd at Croydon to bid tho adventurers bon voyage. r "Yes," said Sir George Manson, drawing comfortably at the cigar, "it was the inspiration of my life. He leaned back in his chair, reremembering with satisfaction the scene on the big aerodrome: Rupert Larrimore's tense lean efficiency; his brother's genuine gratitude; Flesch's eyes gleaming excitedly behind his big spectacles; Nigel Kerr stammering thanks for having been given the chance; the soft warmth of Carol's "farewell kiss.

Then he frowned slightly. Young Tony Sothern hadn't looked a bit the thing. As a rule lie was an amusing, if slightly over-elegant young man: a trifle too blatantly a university type for Sir Georgo. But that morning he had been silent, preoccupied, almost sullen. What the deuce had been wrong with him ? Surely thero was nothing wrong with Sothern's nerve? He remembered a tale Hubert had told him of a quite absurdly risky experiment ho had once carried out with young Sothern, when the latter hadn't turned a liair. Probably he had overdone a farewell party the night before. Sir George dismissed Tony Sothern from his thoughts. "They're reported as past Marseilles," came Cynthia Wright's cool voice. "All going well." "Capital, Cynthia. For once you shall break your excellent rule of refusing invitations to dinner from your employer. We will dine together, and you shall drink a glass of champagne." Miss Wright flushed faintly. "I should be delighted, Sir Georgo," she said primly. Over tho Mediterranean the sun was setting in a kaleidoscopic blaze of colour. The sea, dead calm, flashed like a golden mirror. Some eight thousand feet above that mirror the Star of tho East roared south-westwards, its four great engines driving tho machine at a steady hundred and eighty miles an hour, vet their sound was no more than a not disagreeable hum to the occupants of tho cabin. For tho party the novelty of the expedition had begun to wear off. Janet Manson was asleep. Her husband read a scientific review. Otto Flesch fiddled with some complicated portion of his photographic apparatus. Carol turned her head away from the glory of the sunset. Rupert and Nigel Kerr, of course, were through the door forward, in tho pilots' cockpit, and she knew better than to dream*of breaking into that holy of holies. And then she noticed Antony Sothern. (To bo continuod daily.)

"I'm not afraid of being tried out, En pert." "Bless you," ho said quietly, and kissed her again. They were still standing in each other's arms, when Sir Georgo Manson walked in unnoticed.