Barbara On Her Own

Taranaki Daily News, 24 July 1929, Page 13

Barbara On Her Own

By

EDGAR WALLACE

CHAPTER XXVII. The first person she saw in the store was Mr. Minkey, who scowled at her terrifically. The Live Wire was under a cloud. No longer did Mr. Atterman introduce him to strangers with a proud, possessive wave of hand. The great man passed him in the store with no more than a curt nod. Even the lower grades of employees were inclined to neglect him as though he were an ordinary man. Minkey felt his position keenly; ho never saw’ the window in which lie had slept so peacefully, unconscious of the sensation he had created, without seeing also several shades of red. “Good afternoon, Mr. Minkey,” Barbara was sweetness itself. “Do you know where I can find Mr. Atterman?”

The Live Wire jerked his thumb to the elevator, not trusting himself to speak. A messenger took her name and she heard Mr. Atterman’s voice through the half-opened door, '•Tell her to come in.”

He was standing behind the table, a triumphant smirk on his face. Maudie was the other occupant of the room. She nodded distantly. “Well, young lady, you’ve come in time to see my little show!”

He waved his hand to the wall behind her, and, turning, she saw a large white bill printed in red, the paint still wet.

MABER'S TN GAOL—HENCE THE SALE. ATTERMAN’S FOR HONEST DEALING

Somehow Barbara felt that she was not finely to borrow money from this law-abiding man. Then the secret was out! Maber’s misfortune would soon be common property. She looked at Maudie. The girl averted her eyes. “Very pretty,” said Barbara, steadily, “but you’re not going to exhibit that before your establishment?” “That’s just what is going up, miss, in an hour’s time.” Barbara shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “In the first place, it will cost you more money in libel damages than you would care to pay.” “He’s in gaol, isn’t he ?” he demanded. “He was dead the last time I heard of him,” she said. “Mimdered by a designing woman. I rather fancy you found his bloodstained relics—they were stolen by Mr, Colesberg, who will be arrested ten minutes after that poster goes up. So far I’ve kept him clear, not because i I like him, but because I couldn’t very I well take him to Court without exposing the whole affair.” She looked at him speculatively. “I rather fancy that you also will be in gaol for receiving. Inspector Finney and I are having a conference on the subject.” “There’s no libel in the truth,” he said uncomfortably, “There’s libel in suggesting he’s dis-

honest. All Mr. Maber did was to bite a commissionaire’s ear—there’s nothing dishonest about that,” said Barbara. “Obviously ho didn’t like the commissionaire. It was an honest expression of his feelings.” Atterman looked at the poster and felt- less confident. “Besides, there’s a law —even my private policeman knows this,” Barbara went on. “If warders carry stories out of prison they're liable to lose their pensions.” Maudio bridled. “If you suggest, Miss Storr, that I’ve told any stories to Mr. Atterman, you’re very much mistaken and have got the wrong end of the stick. And if yoil try j to frighten me, miss—” ! “The .point is, Mr. Atterman”—Barbara had really no time to bother with Maudie Deane—“l came to see you about borrowing some money. I’m overdrawn at the bank and my manager suggested that I should come to you.” Atterman gaped at her jin astonishment.

“'Come to me?” lie said, amazed. “D( you imagine for one moment I will lent you—how much do you want?” “Ten Thousand,” said Barbara. Mr. Attcrman’s flabbergasted silence was Maudie’s opportunity. : C‘My pa certainly did see; Mr. Maber I’m not going to say he didn’t. He saw him the day ho came in—” Barbara waved her in silence/' “I had come intending to do a deal ■with you,” she began, and Mr. Atterman laughted sardonically. “But it is impossible to have any business dealings in view of that.” She pointed to the placard. “It would be a. disgraceful thing in any. circumstances to make an attack upon the personal character’ of a business competitor. In this ease it is not only disgraceful but foolish.” “That bill is going out,” said Mr. Atterman emphatically. Barbara snapped her fingers. “Then you’ll go out—like that,” she said, and'stalked from the room.

She went back to her office a very depressed girl, and found Lark waiting at the top of the stairs to intercept her. “Do you know Mr. Elbury?” he asked. “Marcus Elbury—a great friend of the governor’s. I’ve often heard him speak about him.” She shook her head. “Why?” she asked.

“He’s there.” He pointed along the passage. “Waiting for you. I had him shown into the office.”

Sho hurried along, wondering whether this mysterious Mr. Elbury might offer any help to her in her time of trouble. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, goodlooking man, and if ho was not an Ameiiean he had been in America long enough to have acquired American habits. She was surprised to learn he was English-born, if American by nationality.

“I’ve just arrived from Paris.” He shook hands with her heartily. '-Too bad you’ve had all this trouble, Miss Stony” ho said. He was uneasy about something, kept glancing nervously around. I heard about this sale of yours, and wondered if you might be in some sort of difficulty." “I’m in a very great difficulty,” she smiled ruefully. “I've played ducks and diakes with' Mr. Maher's bank balance and I’m overdrawn." He seemed relieved to hear this. “Is that all ?” ho said. And then, to her delight, he took out a cheque-book rom his pocket. “How much do you want?” “Immediately, three thousand. I may Want ten. My bank manager edvises ten." ■ And ho s wise,” said Mr. Elbury, and

filled up a cheque for that amount under her astonished eyes. “Have you—have you heard from Mr. Maber?” Ho nodded. ‘Yes, I've heard,” he said, and something in his tone told her that he was anxious to avoid being questioned further. , “When the heart’s young,” he said - oracularly, “men do queer things. You’re sure this is enough.” He seemed anxious to increase the amount. “Oh, it’s quite enough, thank you, Mr. Elbury,” she. said gratefully. “And if you get into touch with Mr. Maber, will you tell him everything is going splendidly? Especially his money. I don't know what he'll think of me,” she said with an uncomfortable little laugh. “He thinks the world of you, little girl,” said Mr. Elbury solemnly. “He thing’s you're just the cutest—well, he thinks a whole lot of you. As I was saying, when the heart is young a man does thing in the heat of the moment, or from a sense of honour, that he wouldn’t have done if I’d been there.”

“You were not at the the Empire?” “Oh, yes, I was.” Mr. Elbury was full of surprises. “You mean, when they pinched him? Sure I was! I thought they’d let him go, and I didn’t know he’d been arrested until I called at the Court to make certain and found he’d been sent down. As I said to your Secretary of State—how do you call him? —Horae Secretary—it was a mistake that might naturally occur. It was Big Bill Langstead, an oil friend of mine from Cincinnati, that did the biting. Bill was always partial to a rough house.”

“Then it wasn’t Mr. Maber? I’m so glad!” she said. “No, I guess it wasn't Mr. Maber,” said Elb'ury carefully. “As I told the Secretary of State, that man did nothing but sit down and admire the view. He did get into a rough house eventually by trying to help Bill, and I guess that was why the coppers took him.” “Then he’s imprisoned innocently?” gasped Barbara. Mr. Elbury scratched his chin. “Yes, he was,” he admitted, and again that uneasy glance of his towards the door. It was not Police Constable Albuhera Sturman who caused the apprehension so visible on his jolly face. .At him ho grinned. “I won’t stay, Miss Storr,” he said. “The only thing I'd like to tell you is this: That when the heart is young—” “You’ve told me that before,” she smiled.

“I guess I did,” admitted the American unhappily. “But I want to tell you this: That Mr. Maber thoroughly approves of this sale. He thoroughly approves of your firing that dud partner. He’s going to give you a big interest in tho business, and he wants you to think twice before you sell.” A great load rolled from her mind.

“Does he really?” she asked eagerly. “How lovely of him! Have you seen him in prison?” “As to this man Atterman,” said Mr. Elbury earnestly, “I want you to believe that he’s no American. I shouldn’t like anybody to think ill of America. His sister is American by marriage—” He paused here and looked at her anxiously, as though ho expected her to say something. When she refrained, he hurried on: “Atterman’s just a slick little fellow that’s made good by accident." Mr. Maber says that when he comes back, in about six months’ time—”

j She gave a gasp of dismay. I “In six months’ time. He only got a ! month ?” she said i Mr. Elbury nodded very gently. CHAPTER XXVIII. “Mr. Maber doesn’t know, of course, about this?” “No,” said Barbara, “and I don’t want him to know. He trusts me absolutely, I must find some way of saving his name.” So it "was as bad as that! Alan grew cold. Ho even sneezed. It was an absurd interpolation, verging on the grotesque. She looked at him anxiously. These men who had been in the trenches were very careless about their underwear. Perhaps he had a landlady who drank and forgot to air his shirts. Women like that should be punished by law. “It might help if you told me a little more,” he was saying, “I don’t want to hurt you or ask you to take me too much into your confidence —I can guess a whole lot. Hammett could not blackmail you unless the thing he knew about your about your friend, was unusually terrible. I quite understand your wanting to protect him; being what vou are, you would not let a man down, not —not if you were fond of him.” His voice grew husky. .“I am fond 'of him,” she nodded simply. You see, Ive know him ever since I was a little girl. I remember the first time I ever saw him. He came to my aunt’s house to tea. It was Christmas Eve, and the mistletoe was up over the door, and he—kissed me.”

Her voice broke. The head of the unknown would have also broken if it had been within reach of Alan Stewart’s clenched fist.

there was one question he wanted to ask badly, but he could not bring himse„ , learn tlle dreaded truth. “You’re not married to him?” He blurted the words, and did not dare face her when she turned.

“Married—how ridiculous! No, of course not!”

Alan Stewart sighed heavily. Of course not!. Those kind of men never married.’ Or else they were married at an early age and had to live apait from their wives because they drank or were violent.

I m fond of him, and he is fond of me, hut there, was never any question—oh, how stupid the idea seems! I never dreamt that you would think that I should marry that kind of man, lovable as he is.”

Ho felt lie had a duty to his kind, i reform him,” he suggested oyallj. those are the kind of men who sometimes respond to matrimony.” “He doesn’t need reforming,” she said with spirit. “He’s the best, dearest, kindest, sweetest man alive!” Evidently she liked him. It was foolish to attempt to shake her faith in one who vas probably «, heartless scoundrel. (To be continued)