The Innocent Accomplice

Taranaki Daily News, 23 March 1932, Page 12

The Innocent Accomplice

BY

ETHEL P. HEDDLE

CHAPTER XVII.' —(Continued.) But I don’t know that everyone else Mobs. ' There's a pal of yours at the Angler's Rest. She’s taking a holiday With her aunt ana uncle. She was in Ingland’s with you. We got talking •f the burglary there. I’ve seen quite * lot of her, in my role of guest, at the inn. She’s not averse to a little flirtation. And I got her on the burglary at England’s. She told me she always thought a girl—you, in facthid something to do with it. Saw you •eming in late that nlsht r~L ool s°u geared. very late And you ,; - weren’t the kind of girl to have been •dancing,’ she said. She had her knife in you, all right.’’ t “Drop it now, Chips,” Ted put in then Perhaps the deliberate cruel mockery of. the other’s tone, and the torment of 'Peggy’s look, touched a thord, even in him. “Let her alone. Don’t scare her. She didn’t peach then, and she won’t now. Come now, Peggy, get along and let us finish this lob.’’ “What are you going to do?’ Peggy cried. She went up and stood before them. “Oh, Ted, don’t! Don 11 Don’t you see I can’t bear it? It is *• If I opened the door to you. I can’t bear it. They are kind people, so good to me!’’ “Get out of here, and stop that! Chips said, his tone changing to ono Of sudden ferocity. “We will have the maids coming in—anyone coming in. You dry up that rot and get away.. You haven’t anything to do with this, and you will know nothing, unless you poke your nose in. Get rid of her, Ted!’’ “Peggy, go away!” He thrust her hand down from his arm. He would not meet her eyes. “And you mind what you are about,” Chips said, low. “Or you’ll have a detective after you. They JI prove you were In .the shop, perhaps ''That girl suspects, and she hates you, for her own reasons. Open the door for her, Ted!” Scarcely knowing what she did, Peggy went to the door, and walked out. She could hear the two men resume their low, sibilant talk. A ■oft laugh came from Chips. He eould laugh. Laugh and jest. "She had seen him glance at tho Btfe. Had they done something to it? Or -the clasp of the window? If she as much as warned the Admiral all would be discovered. And Ted— /ped might be sent to prison and degraded! How could she send him there? What could she do? Her heart said: Nothing! Nothing! Ted must slip over the precipice, and she could not help him. . CHAPTER XVIII. Ada la Puzzled. “I want you to ‘go down to the Angler’s Rest, Peggy,” Mrs Trevor said next day, when she was changing her dress for dinner. “And giv« Mrs Peter Hobbs a message from me. She’s rather an old dear, and she promised hie the recipe for the mosl wonderful cowslip wine! I want tc give it to Sally and Mrs Silas P., and get the cook here to try it. Mrs Silas P. is wild to have it. Bring it bad with you, Peggy.” Peggy promised she would. But ■he felt a little qualm about this message. She heard Ada was at the ini —Ada who hated her! Still, it could do no harm, surely, for Ada to know she was at the Manor as maid—as long as she did not see Ted! Her heart began to beat hard again. Whatever he and Chips meant to do —they must do soon —or Mrs Silas P. would be away! Peggy fancied it would be on the night of the ball. The house would be in an up- ■ set, then, and —if they succeeded, and Ted was not suspected—he would go away soon 1 Oh, if he would go away and this load could, be lifted from her licai* t! She walked down the country road in the soft twilight, the stars beginning to prick the grey flecks of shining gold, and then she saw Michael suddenly, walking home, a boy holding a basket of trout, and his rods, with him. They came face to face, and Michael lifted his hat. She realised with a sickening throb of pain, that something was gone from his look—some gladness—all the eager welcome—the joy. He no'longer joyed to see her 1 In a moment he had passed on I He—had he heard anything? Did he know anything? Realise the responsibility of loving Peggy, the sister Of a thief? Could he know anyhing? Her mind was in a whirl of doubt and fear as she reached the inn, and in the dark little hall came Ada, who gave a little shriek of recognition when she saw her. “Why, Peggy! Peggy Alison! she orled. “If it isn’t you! Come to pay me a visit? Or js it my aunt?” Peggy explained her message, and Ada nodded, and led her through the bar, all pewter and old oak settles, and' a raftered roof, to the inner room, where roses peeped in through the lattice panes. Ada drew up a chair and looked at her deliberately. “She’s out, Peggy,” she said. “But I’ll tell her about the recipe. Horrid stuff, I think! Give me a dry Martini! How are you getting on, Peggy? I heard what you were doing.” Her eyes sparkled a little maliciously. Peggy, with all her “airs,” in service 1 She could scarcely believe it. when told by the one girl In England’s, with whom Peggy corresponded. “I got sick of England s, she announced. “But I don t think I could descend to be a servant. Not so bad. of course, with a big Stan, and a hall, and all that. I got sick of the shading and McVicar s tantrums! I got into a mess about some ' gloves he said I’d lost. But, I say Peggy——do you know who is here l For a moment Peggy’s heart leaped. Oh, if Ada saw Ted! She must warn Ted! Ada had always seemed to hate them both. If she saw him in his footman’s dress! Peggy s heart seemed to sicken within her. “Who?” she got out. “I musn t stay, Ada. I have sewing to do." “Oh, never mind the sewing! Aunt will be in. She’s only gone gossiping at the farm. I want to tell you. For he admired you, Peggy, old girl—or so'lt was said. Sat upon Mr Harold about you—when he found Harold had given’you the sack! So England’s all ■aid. Old England, of course, always backed up Michael.” " "But—who is it?" Peggy got out. The shadow of the leaves was on her face. She had sat back in the high, carved old chair. She must-know if Ada meant Ted “Michael England himself! Ada erled triumphantly. “Fishing! He’s a swell fisher! He’s got a queer little Dlaoe, it seems, called the Maze. A man here—another fisher —a town fellow — says it’s the queerest place there Is Mr Learoydl”

She coloured and ran to the little fly-blown mirror over the mantelpiece. She forgot about Michael. Mr Learoyd was “no end of a sport,” she told her aunt, and he had asked her to go to a picnic with him and, some friends. She put her curls in order and dusted a little powder on her face. Peggy rose. “I must go, Ada, she said, in her little cold voice. “Will you tell your aunt about the recipe? Ask her to bring or send It up?” She broke off then. Chips, in very different attire, in very good, new clothes of the latest .cut, had opened the door, and not selng Peggy, had nodded coolly to Ada. “Coming for a bit of a walk, Miss Prowse. Its a jolly night. Like a cocktail first? Say the word —and the brand.”

“Oh, thank you, I would." Adas voice took on its most affected languor. “But I say, Mr Learoyd, this is a girl friend. Peggy, may I introduce Mr Learoyd? Miss A1i50n...... Mr Learoyd. He is down for the fishing. Quite a dab, aren’t you, Mr Learoyd?” „ “I’ll let you say so, Miss Prowse. I’ll let you say anything,” Chips said gallantly. He nodded coolly to Peggy. “Do you live here, Alison? Nice little" Sleepy hollow, isn’t it? I’d get mouldy if I lived here long.” Peggy got to the door. She murmured, “Yes, she lived here,” but she negatived Ada’s suggestion that she should stay and have a cocktail. It madS her cold to see Chips there, in his new dress, the glazier s disguise discarded.

So she nodded to Ada and got out of the inn, where a few villagers were now gathered round the bagatelle board, and Peter. Hobbs was busy at the bar. „ “Come and sit down for a bit, Ada said hospitably to Learoyd, “and don’t you let Uncle Peter see me having a cocktail! He’s a Methodist, and no end crochety.” She gave him a coquettish glance. She did not particularly like him. He had a way of mocking her politely, she felt,.and she did not quite understand him —but he was a man, and seemed to find her useful to pass the time with. ’ “Isn’t that girl pretty? she demanded, as he gave her a cigarette. “Some people rave about her! But she rot the sack at England’s, and - alvays think she’s deep I She s the one I told you of before.” “Pretty enough,” Chips said. He knew better than to praise Peggy. “Good eyes—not much style'. Sort of frightened little rabbit look!” \ / , Ada laughed as if at a good joke. “Oh, go on!” she said. “I’m not so sure of the rabbit business! I’m pretty sure she’s deep! She always keeps me at arm’s length, because I think she’s afraid of me." r “Why is she afraid of you? rcyd asked. He looked at her with light cold eyes, curiously repellent to some people. “Jealous a bit? Girls are all jealous little cats.” “Oh, no. I mean, she never had any cause to be jealous,” Ada said. “Though she did try to take an admirer from me.” Her eyes glittered as she remembered. “But I happened to see her-come in very late, the night of the burglary at England’s I I told you I suspected a girl.” “Oh, yes, I remember. Never caught the thieves, did they?” He got the cocktails, and now handed Ada hers. She sipped it delicately, her eyes brightening. “No, they were never caught! But about her. She didn’t meet me foi the Movies that night, and I wondered, and watched a bit. And I saw her come in—looking scared and vvhite, at two in the morning. And she said she d been ‘detained’ ! Wouldn’t explain, and her -mother didn’t know, for I asked her I. A bit flshy 1 I always think she was in it. In the burglary! For all her airs!” „ “She doesn’t look like a crook, Learoyd said, as if considering. “Not the style, nor the dress! She isn t a bit smart. She looks more the innocent, silly kind! Dull as ditch water they always are! Have another? “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Ada gave a little shriek. “Uncle would have a fit!” “Well, come out for a bit of a walk, then,” Learoyd suggested. “We’ll go down by the river, and home by the Manor. I’d like a peep at the park there Know it at all —the paths round the house?” “Oh, yes,” Ada said. “I used to play there as a child. The old man is a fearful Turk, and he doesn’t like people going in, now." They went down by the river, and then home by the Manor. Ada talked and chattered. Learoyd was ajittle silent. He seemed to be thinking and considering, when they went through the gate and before the house. He stood a long time before the facade of the house, looking up. Ada thought he was counting the windows. He said he was “dead nuts on old houses.” They would just take a look at the park. She grew a little tired at last, and said they’d better be going. The green silence of the grass, the great trees swinging lightly in the cool, sweet wind, the fragrance of bracken and moss, the call of sleepy birds, ,ment nothing to Ada. She only ‘wished Learoyd had been more of a coming-on disposition and flirted a ■ little! He seemed to be thinking all the time —and planning! Absorbed, as if he measured the distance from the trees to the house. “I say, you are in a brown study, aren’t you?” she said, almost huffily, ac last. “And I must be getting back. It’s a trust house, and he sets all the silly old men out of the bar at ten! So ! I must be in. You aren’t a surveyor, are you?” ITO be continued.)