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Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 7

Describing “ muscular sense,” to an audience of Rotarians at New Plymouth the other day (says a North Island exchange), Rotarian G. Home illustrated his remarks by asking: “What is it enables you to convey a glass of ale front a table to your mouth in the dark without having a light with which to guide it? ” There followed a brief silence, which was broken by a very material suggestion from one Rotarian: “ Practice! **

THE PARADISE PEARL

by

SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I. —Gerald Whybrow and Manlie Buntz, both “ down and out/' are approached by Dr Lumsden and Ralph Becker to see it Gerald will impersonate Bellew Paradise, the missing grandson of Captain George Paradise, who is very weathy. Gerald and Mannie decide to talk it over. CHAPTER II. —Marcia Paradise, the captain’s adopted daughter is in town and talks to Dr Lumsden, who refuses to recognise Gerald and Mannie while he is with her. <X half-wit, called Mack tries to help her harness her horse when she is leaving. Gerald perceives that she seems afraid of him. Mannie says there was once talk of a precious pink pearl, which Captain Paradise was said to have hidden somewhere. Gerald decides to do what Lumsden and Becker wish him to, and hears that he is to join a party which is going to stay at the home of Gall, a fisherman on Cobalt Island, where the Paradises live. The Galls have a daughter, Judith, who hates Marcia, and who is in love with Captain Paradise’s handyman, Tom Smith. CHAPTER lll.—The party divides, Becker and Lumsden going to the Gall’s, Whybrow and Mannie to Cobalt House. Whybrow feels that Mack, who leads them there, is an enemy. They are received with joy by Mrs Robbins, the housekeeper.

CHAPTER IV. When she had gone, a’ queer silence followed. Buntz broke it by saying, in a constrained voice: “This is not quite what 1 expected, Bel. I had no idea. .... That’s a fine woman. It’s going to be rather a rotten job. . . • ” Whybrow’s face had paled. He said harshly, “Well, what are you going to de about it? If it hadn’t been for your persuasions ” “ I know, I know,” Buntz mumbled. " Of course, it’s too late to turn back now.” “ I have no intention of turning back, Mannie.” “It wouldn't be any use. The mischief’s done. If they’re going to be this glad of you . . . Bel, couldn’t you . . . be it —in your heart?” “ What do you mean? ” Buntz hesitated. “ Well, I mean this. Take Bellew Paradise’s job over in dead earnest. He’s dead and gone. At least, it’s reasonable to believe so. You heard what Becker said. When Gregory Paradisedied his widow’ and child disappeared. The name hasn’t been heard in the. islands for rears, except as a memory.” ” Well?”' “ You needn’t snap at me,” the old man protested with dignity. “ I don’t care what you do. I’m here, if you still want me. If you don’t ” “ I’m sorry, Mannie,” Whybrow apologised. He drew’ a hand over his eyes, as if to clear their sight. “ You know I’d be lost without you. There’s no man I’d sooner have at my back when —when the storm breaks.”

“ That’s just it,” Buntz said eagerly. He was instantly all smiles again. Need the storm break, Bel? Not unless you say no. You’re Bellew Paradise —see? Not because Becker and the doctor pay you for it, but because you want to be. You’re Bellew Paradise, heir to a blind old man’s starved love. Now, that’s a real man’s job. Damn me, if I’m not turning soft in my old age!” “ Even supposing all that is possible,” Whybrow’ questioned slowly, “ has Captain Paradise the right to the happiness he wants ? Oh, I’ll grant, if you like, that the deception will bring that to him, in a measure. But only in a measure. If there’s no love there for him, Mannie. do you think he w’on’t sense it? Now, do you see what I mean ? ”

“ You might,” Buntz ventured, “ come to be fond of him if you really tried to put yourself in the place of Bellew’ Paradise.” He added, with a certain wistfulness: “ Love sometimes begets love. As to his deserts —where would most of us be, Bel, if w e got our deserts ? ” “ You’d be in gaol,” Whybrow said suddenly relaxing into a grin. He smote Buntz’s broad back, and said: “ We’re getting too serious. Life’s just a game after all. I’m here, and here I stay. At least until we discover the real, motive of our friends outside.” “ Mrs Robbins is coming back,” Buntz warned. The housekeeper’s eyes were suspiciously -bright. She said: “He’s waiting for you, Bel. I thought when I’d told him . . I was frightened at his . . . his joy. I’ve never seen him so moved. He called your father’s name aloud.” Buntz said: “ Good luck, Bel.” He was enveloped in Mrs Robbins’s warm emile. She promised: “ I’ll be back in a few moments, Mr Buntz. I’ll lay the cloth in the dining room. You must be tired and hungry, you poor things. Miss Marcia wasn’t asleep. She’s getting dressed. No wonder she’s excited.” “I’ll het,” Buntz agreed. Hi' fingers emerged from a pocket of his new waistcoat, crackling a cigar deliciously.

(Copyright. —For the Otago Witness.)

Bernard Cronin

“Is this a smoking compartment? It is I thank yon, Mrs Robbins. See you later, Bel.”

Mrs Robbins’s hand was on-his arm

Whybrow nodded, and followed the housekeeper up the stairs and along a narrow corridor to where a light streamed from an open doorway. His heart was beating rapidly, and his month was dry. For a little moment a kind of panic seized him, so that his knees trembled under the impulse to turn and run.

She said, as she stood aside for him to pass in at the door, “ This is a wonderful night. God bless you, Bel. I wonder if your father sees . . Whybrow was to remember ever afterwards his first sight of Captain Paradise. He saw a tall, gaunt man standing erect and motionless by the side of an armchair; one ancient but still mighty arm flung over it in support. Noting the broad, deep chest, and arching ribs, the big-jointed hands, blunt fingers, and spatulate, and the immense bow of the neck and shoulders, Whybrow marvelled no longer at the tales that were almost legendary among the South Sea Islands of the man’s tremendous strength. Even now, for all the great age of him, Captain George Paradise would be a man to be reckoned with once his grip tightened about an enemy. His skull was big, with a thatch of iron-grey hair about the temples, and a beard of iron-grey falling from the high cheekbones. The skin of his face was seamed deeply, and tanned to the colour of new leather. The blind eyes were covered by heavy lids, under heavy brows. The nose was straight and high. Captain Paradise said, in a deep,

qrbas«: “Is it my son’s son? Give me your hanu, ik>s. Lora God! 1 thank lhee humbly. Gregory . . . Gregory . . . Now. surely, you havi* forgiven me.” “ Grandfather! ” Whybrow managed to say.

In spite of himself he was greatly moved. There was immense pathos in the sight of this huge blind hulk of manhood reaching out over the long vears of remorse and suffering, to touch the pardon of its flesh and blood. The blunt fingers held Whybrow in a grip of iron. “ Bellew, I’ve been searching for you everywhere. Why didn’t you come to me, lad, long ago?” “ I didn’t know . . .” Whybrow stammered. “My father. ...” “Aye, your father.” Captain Paradise said sorrowfully. He let Whybrow s hand fall, and his great, bearded mouth twitched. “Well, that's past now . . . past and gone. You’ll not be lca\ ing me, Bellew?” “ Iso, sir ... if you want me. “ Why, lad, i’ve prayed for this day . . on my knees.” He seemed to sway a little. Whybrow, taking his arm. said:, “Won’t you sit, grandfather? There —” “ I’ll stand here at your side.” “ How old at you. Bellew ? ” “ Twenty-nine, sir.” “ Aye, the years pass. And prospering?” “ No, sir. I have what I stand up in. The luck’s been hard.” Captain Paradise sighed. “It’s the way of the world. No matter; I have enough for us all. Y’our mother, Bellew? ” — “ She died when I was 10,” Whybrow said a little sternly. “And you?” “ Friends helped me to schooling, grandfather. I was in the West for some years; then I tried sisal hemp in the Solomons. I couldn’t settle to a city.”

“ No, you wouldn’t. No Paradise ever could.” ’ The grim face softened in a smile. “What do yon know of me, Bellew?” Whybrow hesitated. He had a queer impression that the blind eyes searched his face. He said: “Very little, sir. They spoke of you in the islands. Buntz remembers your name well.” “Who is Buntz? Do you mean Emmanuel Buntz ?” “ Yes, sir. Mannie Buntz is here with me. He’s waiting downstairs. We’ve been friends for years, though I hadn’t seen anything of him for a long time, until I met him by accident in Circular Head, three days ago. I persuaded him to come here with me.” “ Quite right,” Captain Paradise nodded. “ I’ve heard of Emmanuel Buntz. A sound man, if reckless. It was Buntz, if my memory doesn’t trick me, who stood off the crew of the Asaki with nothing in his hand but a tholepin that time the Japs ran amok in I Thursday Island. They knifed him in I the shoulder—the dirty little scuts.”

“ You don’t like the Japs,' grandfather ? ” “What white man does? They’re treacherous, Bellow—born liars. I’ve had my share of trouble. . . .” His manenr became excited. He said abruptly: “ Lad, did you ever hear tell of the Paradise Pearl? Where’s your hand ? ” Whybrow gave it to him. “ Mannie Buntz spoke of it, sir.” “ It’s here, Bellew—in this house,” his grandfather said, suddenly 7 whispering. “It was to be your father’s. I meant to buy him back with it —and he died.”

“ Yes,” Whybrow said. He felt a little sick. Captain Paradise was shaking. “He died, lad . . . and you can't buy a soul that’s freed. And so I kept it for his son, if I should find him —you, Bellew. Here—in this house. They’ve tried to find where it’s hidden, the damned scoundrels. The place is barred and bolted, and they got in. How, God knows. But they went away emptyhanded. Twice—three times they’ve been.” “ Who are they, sir ? ” " I don’t know, Bellew. I wish I did. If I had my sight—but now you’re here, to guard your own. I must show you the hiding place ” Whybrow was alarmed at his appearance. A carafe of water was on the table, and he poured some into a glass and held it to the old man’s lips. “ You’re upset, grandfather. Drink some of this.” Captain Paradise said presently, “ Aye, that’s better. I’m not well to-night, lad. Your coining has stirred me strangely. To-morrow we’ll talk, Bellew ... tomorrow.”

A knock came gently at the door, and Whybrow said involuntarily, “ Come in.” I. “Who’s that?” Captain Paradise asked in a faint voice. o “ It’s you. Marcia. Come here, -tfcliild. ’ I He drew his great body suddenly erect, c An immense pride pervaded his rugged I features. h “ Marcia, Bellew lias come home to t us. Bellew Paradise, my son's son. o There's an end to our heartburnings, f Bellow. Marcia is as truly my child as t if she had been horn to me. Give me each a hand.” t Whybrow knew a return of that swift v elation which had seized him when first f he had seen her. He thought how ex- s quisitely calm her eyes were, yet how t vital. They were like po<*Js of star dust. Her cheeks were flushed, and her black i hair was braided in gleaming coils over her ears. She wore a simple short dress t of hois de rose silk, caught about the ] waist with a grey suede belt. She looked , at Whybrow with interest, but. he < thought relievedly, without recognition, i Her lips parted in a little smile. “Am I to call you Bellew? ” Before Whybrow could exclaim his eager acquiescence his grandfather said , vigorously: “And what else, my dear? . Damn me, you two must be friends.” . Marcia said: “Father, you're not to excite yourself any more. Please, Bellew, persuade him to go to bed now. It's long past his hour. To-morrow ” “ Damn me,” Captain Paradise said with a return to his normal zest, “ here’s a tyrant for you, Bellew. Excited! Wouldn’t you be excited, miss, if your grandson came home this night?” “ I’ve no doubt I should be,” she answered him demurely. “ Although probably not half so excited as you would be, dear, at such an unnatural performance on the part of your daughter.” Captain Paradise chuckled, but almost immediately his expression became one of pain. He said slowly: “ es, I shall go to bed. I’m tired, Bellew. In the morning, dear lad —Marcia will send Smith to help me undress. No, no! You must be tired yourself. Tired and hungry. You’ll get him what he wants, Marcia.” “ Mrs Robbins has a meal ready,” she said. She bent and kissed his cheek. “And yon know what Mrs Robbins’s cooking is like.” “ Then, good night,” Captain Paradise said. He held Whybrow’s hand a long time, before gently releasing it. He said quietly: “Sleep well, son of my son.” , “And you, sir,” Whybrow said. Marcia led him silently down the 1 stairs and into a wide, lofty room, where L Emmanuel Buntz sat by a log fire, sated and sleepy, with well being. He roused at their entry, to say: 1 “ Bel, I just had to eat. Hungry ’ wasn’t the word. Well?” Whybrow seemed to find a difficulty [ in speaking. He cleared his throat rather asertively before replying: , “ Mannie, I never knew 7 such fine old men existed. I’m glad we came.” “So!” Buntz ejaculated. Whybrow said: “ Mannie, have you met Miss Paradise Marcia, my grandfather’s adopted daughter. Marcia, this 1 old villain is ipy friend. I never hope e for a stauncher.” * Mareia shook hands with Buntz. Her manner was friendly and welcoming, yet I Whybrow somehow could not rid himII self of a belief that she showed a sudden restraint. ' He saw her look from Buntz e to himself in a rather perplexed way. Something like a frown puckered her smooth brow. _j As Mrs Robbins appeared with a steaming plate, she said: n “I must find Tom Smith, Bellew, and n send him to see to your grandfather. I I shall not be long.”

Whybrow ate without relish. He was over-weary, and his appetite had left

him. lira Robbins had returned to her kitchen.

“So he’s a fine old man,” Buntz echoed presently. “ He made me feel ashamed, Maunie. You’ll understand what 1 mean when you meet him.”

Buntz took a seat at the table. He said, lowering his voice: “It’s not as if you meant harm to him, Bel. His own grandson wouldn’t do more than you’ll do, to help his last years.” “ I can swear to that,’ Whybrow said, with a trace of passion in his voice. “ I can swear to that, Mannie.” “ And Marcia, Bel 1 ” “ I’ve scarcely seen her. He’s very fond of her. And she of him. It’s easy to read their affection.”

“ You’ll have to be careful with her,” Buntz said disturbingly.

“You mean ”

“ She’s remembered seeing us in rags on the beach. I saw the thought grow in her eyes. Possibly—and this is the more awkward—she saw us with Becker and the doctor. That alone is enough to make her suspect.” Whybrow opened tired eyes.

“ I don’t quite see ” Buntz said, “ Your grandfather hates the pair of them. I forget how it happened exactly, but Mrs Robbins brought their names up after you had left us. She thought at first, when von knocked, that it was Becker. She called him some names, I can tell you. It seems they used to worry Captain Paradise quite a lot —always nosing around—until he refused to admit them here, or even to communicate with them. Mrs Robbins seemed a little afraid of them, I thought.” “ Didn’t we see Marcia talking to Dr Lumsden?” Whybrow demanded.

“ I remembered that. I couldn’t speak of it to Mrs Robbins, however, because I wasn’t supposed to know Marcia. I expect there’s an easy explanation. Dr Lumsden is said to be very clever at his profession. Possibly she felt called to put aside her dislike of the man in order to consult him about your grandfather. ‘ He’s been poorly for some time,’ Mrs Robbins says.”

Whybrow felt that this was probably the true explanation. He said. “He wasn’t at all well when I left him. 1 don’t know how old he is. I should say not far short of SO. I don’t wonder that Marcia feels anxious about him.” He had finished his meal when Marcia returned.

“ We’ve given you each a room,” she told them pleasantly. The perplexity had gone from her eyes, and her voice,, was candid. “ You see, we have plenty ot space, and you'll be more comfortable that way.” “It’s a big house,” Buntz said. “ We only occupy the centre portion. Both wings are closed and are unfurnished. It used to be a barracks of some kind, very many years ago. There are cells underground. Your grandfather had the approach bricked up.” • Mrs Robbins appeared, with a candle

in each hand. She said, smiling: “It’s an old warren of a house as you’ll find when you know it. Passages everywhere. I’ll show you to your rooms. Do you know it’s nearly midnight ? ” Marcia nodded to them and vanished. At the top of the landing. Buntz took one of the candles and did likewise. Whybrow was shown into the room adjoining. It was plainly but comfortably furnished, with a single window’ overlooking the sea. The wind had risen, and the play of the surf on the wide beach below came faintly to his ears. When Mrs Robbins, too, had felt him,

Whybrow sat for sime time on the edge of the bed before removing his clothes. He was unutterably tired, yet he had never felt farther from sleep. His mind was a chaos of conflicting emotion. When presently he put out the light, the night enfolded him like a blanket. The air was full of little sounds, muffled yet subtly penetrating. Once, far away somewhere in the recesses of the great house he heard a dull, reverberation, as though a door had banged violently. With an effort of will he shut his eyes. (To be continued.)