The King of Greenhaven

Putaruru Press, Volume XII, Issue 563, 15 March 1934, Page 3

The King of Greenhaven

SERIAL STORY i

By RICHARD WAYNE,

All Rights Reserved,

CHAPTER XXV. “Your clothes arc dry, and the Shipper wants you in his cabin,” she wai informed. The boat was stationary, as Jja'i realised while.she hastily dressed. Two men were wailing for her as a sort ol guard; but as one ranged on either side of iter, Joan caught sight of Wedlake, apparently unharmed by his immersion, and even smiling reassuringly at her. “Good girl!” he called, as she waved her hand. “You have only to teli the truth when you are questioned.”

“That’ll do!” one of her escorts said gruffly. “She'll tell the truth, and like it, before we hare done with her.”

Roger Merriman, lying extended on the ground not fifty yards from the two waiting lorries, had to endure a term of silent expectancy which seemed interminable. Against the blackness of the water, he could see the outlines of the lorries, and of the men grouped about them. All else was darkness. Nobody moved or spoke. Grocnhavon was waiting breathlessly for the arrival of the cargo from out of the night. Then came, from away to the south, the first glare of Wedlake’s light, when he swtched it on for his inspection of the coastline. Roger had been waiting for that, but was not prepared for the quick disappearance of the tongue of light. What followed stirred the men near him to a whispered consultation, which presently developed into a noisy argument. First Wedlake’s light was turned on again, and began to move northward. Then, from nowhere, as it seemed, another spear of light appeared. The two lights moved rapidly away; and presently there came the ominous rattle of the machine gun.

“She’s preventive, I tell you,” declared a voice near at hand. • “I said so from the first. And she’s firing on our fellows.”

“Firing on Wedlake, more like amended another.

“Ah; and on Miss Joan,” put in a third. “She’s heading the wrong way, seems to me, to come up with our fellows.”

“There she. goes again,” cried the first voice, as the distant rattle of the machine-gun was again to be heard. “The preventives are fair murdering Mr AYerllakc and Miss Joan, hoys.” “Got to catch him first,” another suggested. “The revenue boat isn’t built that could come up with Wedlake’s machine.”

“Stop your gab, and listen,” commanded the first speaker. “Quiet, everybody.” “Our fellows are coming in." “Aye, and losing no time about it. Be ready, everybody; Abel will want some quick work to-night." Merriman lay and listened to all this, in a great confusion of mind. He had expressly stipulated that no Interference should take place on the water, or even In Greenhaven itself. His plan had been disregarded, or how could the pursuit of Wedlake’s boat by some large craft be explained? They were firing on Wedlake and on Joan; and he could not lift a finger to prevent it. It was the worst moment of his existence, when his duty forced him to lie still and wait. There was nothing he could do that would not upset his carefully-laid plans. He was helpless; caught in his own net. And Joan had been right about Wilfred Chancel He had carried out his threat; for in no other way could the pursuit of Wedlake’s boat be explained. And the shooting 1 Roger could not trust himself to think what might result from that; he was a servant of the State, engaged upon his official duty. One false move on his part would bring about a complete fiasco.

The boats were coming in as fast as they could be driven; and men were already wading in the sea to meet them and begin their unloading. “Show lights!” ordered Abel Sharman, from the first of the fishing boats. “And work with a will. That’s a preventive boat out yonder, and she’ll be here before we know It. Set all hands to it, women and all. We’ll get this stuff out of Greenhaven, before they come to it.” “What happened to Wedlake?” somebody asked.

“Work, don’t talk,” Sharman ordered curtly. Lanterns were brought; and the people of Greenhaven worked like furies at the transhipment of the smuggled goods from the fishing boats to the waiting lorries. Women as well as men waded breast deep into the stinging water; children carried the bundles tossed on to the sand to the men who stowed them in the lorries.

“Hurry! Hurry!” cried Abel Sharman incessantly. “Well get the stuff away first: and then we’ll pay our reckoning with those who meddled in our affairs.” “But what’s become of Miss Joan?” a woman asked.

“Shot, or drowned, for what I know.” Sharman said harshly. “They turned the machine guns on Wedlake. Couldn’t you hear them?” “But they got away.”

Sharman -sprang upon one of the lorries.

“Come along with me, half a dozen of you,” he said. “Just in case there’s anybody waiting on the road, tlic same as they were waiting out there. Wedlake’s boat went under to their fire —and he and his girl with it, I expect." Roger Merriman sprang to his feet, and ran forward into the light.

“What’s that?” he cried. “What dd you say, then, Sharman?” “Enough to draw you,” Sharman replied. "I knew you’d be skulking and spying somewhere handy; and here you are. Stand still, Merriman. You’re behind all this, and now you have to answer for it.” “Did you say the boat went under?” Roger asked, aware of the pistol pointed full at him, but moving forward without regard to its menace. “Did you mean that? How do you know?” The report of the weapon was his answer. He felt a blow; it was as though something very big had struck him. He was falling, and he did not want to fall. He wanted to hear the truth about Wedlake’s boat.

Somebody lifted him, and he asked once more: “Do you know that the boat went under?” But if any answer was made to his question, Roger never heard it. Tie lost all count of time and all knowledge of place. He was somewhere, where the walls leaned towards him, and then leaned away at strange angles. He saw faces that he knew, looking gravely down at him—his aunt’s Mr Stanhope’s and Joan’s. Once his cousin Isobel came, and there were tears on her face: which struck Roger as very wonderful, because Isobel was superior to tears. Then came a time when he slept a good deal, and when it was very exhausting when people Insisted on moving him. They were always doing it, and always giving him food, or drink. After that, he woke up from a long and troubled dream, to find Mr Stan-

hope smiling by his bedside. “Good boy. Roger,” he said. “You are staying with us; and there was a day when I was afraid that you would not. I mustn’t talk, and you mustn’t ask questions. But you’ll want to know that you pulled It off." “Joan?" Roger asked. “None the. worse. Wedlake’s all right. Now I must go.” Merriman was alone again, until a nurse came in, and regarded him with an impersonal look of concern. She shook her head, and pursed her lips obstinately, when Roger asked for Joan. “You must not be excited,” she said at last. “It is bad for you.” Never mind; he had pulled it off. Stanhope had said so; and Joan and Wedlake had neither been drowned nor shot. There was nothing else that seemed to matter for a day or two, and then Roger was able to account to himself for being not far on the road from a hand-to-hand struggle with death.

He had been shot, and by the very man whom he had tried so hard to shield from the consequences of his own recklessness. He had promised Joan that no Greenhaven man should suffer; and he had contrived to get himself shot by Abel Sharman, the man he liked best in all Greenhaven.

“You are exciting yourself again,” warned his nurse, producing a thermometer.

“So would you, if you had been shot by a really good fellow,” Roger argued. “What has happened to Abel Sharman? Tell me, or I’ll scream for help.” “You’ll hear all about it, at the right time. Now take this.”

Roger clenched his teeth and shook his head obstinately. “I’ll take nothing,” he affirmed; “And I’ll play old gooseberry .unless you bring Miss Wedlake at once. At once, do you hear.” His voice, raised in a crescendo of determination, cracked and slidded under the strain of his earnestness.

./‘My goodness!” exclaimed his tyrant, and fled for help. When she. returned, she brought Joan in her train; Joan trying to be very calm and selfrestrained, but betraying herself by the shining of her eyes and the trembling of her hands. “It is poor old Abel, Joan,” Roger quavered. “I put myself in his was at the wrong moment, and he blazed at me. And I promised you . . “He is a wicked wretch,” Joan said so hotly that the nurse laid a restraining hand on her arm. “But did they take him?” Joan shook her head. “The men got him away," she said “I’m not allowed to tell you any more now, Roger.’’ “Good old Abel! Did they take that rascal Ben Joad?’’ The nurse had Joan by the arm, and half-way to the door. Over her shoulder Joan nodded a'smiling assent. “That’ll do, for one day,” Roger I sighed. I “I should say so,” the nurse com--1 mented indignantly. “Upsetting yourself over scum like that. Drink this at once, Mr Merriman.”

CHAPTER XXVI. It was. Wedlake, after all, who se before Roger a elear and connected account oi' all that had happened, am gave the explanation of all that hai not been clear in Merriman’s mind Joan sat by the hed, holding Roger’s thin hand in her smooth one, and punc l.liatiiip/tiie story wth smiles and sighs “Our girl has told me a good deal Roger,” Wedlake began. “I mean of your defendng me against Chance’s charges. And I want you to know, before we go any further, that the money expended on her was her own. It came to her from her father, as anybody might have ascertained by consulting his will.” “And Muriel knew, all the time," Joan put in. “She knew better than anybody, because she was angry that my father’s money was not put in her hands.” “It would have saved Joan some heart-burning, sir, if you had made that clear,” Roger ventured. Wedlake nodded absently. "1 agree,’.’ he said. “I was rather the victim of a single idea at the. time, you see. I had set myself the task of exposing and ruining Chance. I had been on his track for years; ever since his return from Brazil. And I resented Joan’s going to her mother, though

I tried to hide It. So I was foolish enough to make a mystery of the money which I administered for Joan.” “Chance was quick to take advantage of it." “He was quick to seize any unfair advantage. When he robbed me, and ran off with the woman who was promissed to me, nobody ever expected to see him again I wanted to forget him and his wife. But they kept cropping up, somehow. Even at Greenhaven I was reminded of the man, by discovering a former associate of his —an Alsatian, and a great rogue—treating the fishermen in the Lobsterpot. And that happened just when Chance had the effrontery to re-appear in London."

"Did he approach you, sir?” “His agents did. They wanted to wipe out the old score by a money payment; and they also desired to obtain possession of Joan, for Mrs Chance. I declined both advances Chance was always in danger of process at my hands, and he dared not take the claim upon Joan into the Courts. And soon after that, smuggling became the real industry of Greenhaven.”

“And you divined that Chance was behind it How did you reach that conclusion?” “Because of the Alsatian whom T mentioned—of whom, by the way, I have been able to tell Mr Stanhope a few useful things And I had a feeling that Chance was backing the men, in order to annoy me, and spoil my peace and contentment.” “That sounds a bit fantastic." “Of course it was. I lived too much alone, and brooded too much over the past. But it seemed to me that it would be a fine thing, to catch him, and expose him. Until Joan came back from school, and you came to Greenhaven, I lived for little else What I should have done, of course, was to put a stop to smuggling by ail means in my power. Instead of that

I behaved in a wilfully mysterious fashion and played straight into the hands of that utter rascal Ben Joad.” “He was Chance’s agent?”

“Of course though I believed in his simplicity and sincerity. The men had the idea that he was acting for me all the time; or many of them had. He contrived to make an amazing village comedy out of it until you came along and bowled him out.”

“Now I have the groundwork of the story,” Roger said; "and I am able to fill in many details. But what happened to you and Joan in the boatAnd why was it there at all?” “Chance supplied Information to the revenue department,” Wedlake explained. “They made something of a secret of his Information, and acted Independently of your chief, who knew nothing of It., Just as the preventive people knew nothing of his plans.”

“Most .Government departments work lit watertight compartments,” Roger grinned. “So Chance wanted you taken; or perhaps he relied upon something more tragic happening to you. What happened?” Wedlake narrated his adventure bijiefly. /‘We must have a hit a bit of floating wreckage of some kind,” he said. “It was nothing very much, but it sufficed to overturn the boat, and nearly drown both of us. The revenue men fished us out; and were rather hard to convince, weren’t they, Joan?” “I thought they were rather nice, considering the dance we led them,” Joan said. “They were very kind to me.”

“They had to let us go, when I had established our identity,” Wedlake explained. “They had no proof of any kind, to implicate us in smuggling, you see. And when we got to Greenhaven we found the place in dire confusion, with you reported as lying at the very door of death.” “But how dirt the men avoid arrest? Sharman had half a dozen of them under orders, as defenders of the lorries. I foresaw a fight, when the lorries should he stopped. I think that was in my mind when I showed myself; though my chief concern, or course, was I,hc report Sharman mado about, Joan and yourself.” “When Abel shot you down, there was no more talk about defending the 1 lorries,” Wedlake explained. “The

men had only two concerns then. One was in getting Abel away; and he was off in one of the smuggling boats inside ten minutes. The other was obtaining attention l'or you.” "So none ol' them were on the lorries, except Joad," Joan put in. “You kept them out of trouble, Roger, and it nearly cost you your life." “And Joad was caught in the very act? That makes up for a good deal,” Roger remarked. “And now we come to Chance and his wife."

"Your people made some important seizures of smuggled wares,’ ’Wedlake said. “As soon as he heard of it Chance discovered pressing business, which called him and his wife out of the country. There the matter rests at the moment; as far as my knowledge goes.” "And Greenhaven?”

“A very subdued and chastened village, Merriman. The police have seen to that. And they have not done with us yet, by any means. They are only waiting for your account of the shooting . .

"Which, of course, was a pure accident,” Roger put in. “I hope that was made clear."

Wedlake shook his head, though his eyes twinkled.

“Nobody has had the effrontery to suggest that,” he said. “No, Abel Sharman is missing, and he must stay missing. And Greenhaven will get along better without him, on the whole."

“I’m rather sorry,” Roger said. "What is to be my fate, when I show myself in Greenhaven again, as Joan’s husband?"

“Is that tiie way of It, after all?” Wedlake asked. “I rather gathered from Joan . . .

“I have Joan’s promise, subject to your consent, sir." “Then you may take it that Greenhaven will be as pleased as I am; or put it the other way round, if you prefer it.”

“But I cannot leave you again,” Joan began. “1 shall not be happy, even with Roger, if you are left all alone . . .

“The king of Greenhaven might go into residence elsewhere, at given seasons of the year,” Roger suggested. “And there is likely to be a great deal to take us down to Greenhaven, and keep us there. All my work on the book has been wasted, owing to the interruption which keeps me here. It has all to be done over again. One way and another, sir, I think we can meet Joan’s objection with some reasonable arrangement.” “I’ll leave that to you and Joan. You’ll find me ready to fall in with anything you may arrange. To be frank, Merriman, I could desire nothing better for my girl than what you propose. That’s plain; and I’ll leave you to make what you like of It.” “And what do you say, now, Joan?” Roger asked, when they were alone.

“To be frank, my dear Merriman, 1 ' said Joan with an Irresistible capture of Wedlake’s manner and intonation, “I could desire nothing better for myself; especially since I have made ml peace with your cousin and aunt, who have been adorable to me. But tell me one thing, before I actually promise?” “Well?”

“Do you think it unnatural on my part to feel so glad that Muriel has run away, never to trouble me any more?--She is my own mother, you know Roger; though I find it harder than ever to realise it." "Never to trouble us any more, you mean,” Roger said. “One of the nicest things about you, Joan, Is that you look like your mother, and yet you are not like her, and you do not like her.” Joan bent down, and kissed his lips. “I had no love to spare for her, poor thing,” she whispered. “I had given It all to Dad, and to you, Roger.”

“Then let us forget and forgive the beautiful Mrs Chance.” “And do you really mean to do your book over again; or is it only an excuse. like the first time?” “Girl, that book is planned as my life work. And Greenhaven Is part of my life. Let me tell you a secret hitherto confined to Wedlake and myself." “Yes, Roger?” • “He has selected me as the next king of Greenhaven.” (THE END).