The Innocent Accomplice

Taranaki Daily News, 26 April 1932, Page 10

The Innocent Accomplice

BY

ETHEL F. HEDDLE

' CHAPTER XXVl.—(Continued).

w. She "was thinking of the affair now, two days after the burglary. Blaka jdteoussed it with her uncle, when he efttna In, always anxious to hear what the village said, and he even listened (0 Ada’s surmises and spiteful retparks with polite Interest. A spiteful Mrson usually finds nothing but evil io -speak- of people—and delights to !p§ak it— and perhaps Ada might drop 1 useful hint, Blake decided. That Iday, before he went out, he laid he might be back that night, and perhaps not—he had asked her what Belton was like, and Ada had to say ■he had not seen him. But her uncle chimed In from the bar, where he was Cleaning a silver salver with his thumb. > “Nice-spoken, good-looking chap, > Above ’is station so to say. Fair ’8 ’ad, wi’ a kind of ourl In it. B*ue ■yes. Real blue. Might 'ave been a ‘ioff, as I said to my Missis. Soft voice »e ’ad. Talked like Londoners. „ E #*me in once or twice for a drink.’’ < Ada lifted her head suddenly, and ■ gleam came into her eyes. Novy, who had a “ kind of curl ” In his fair hair? And blue eyes—and “talked igoft,’’ “like a Londoner?" ! It came to her in a flash of Intuition.. Ted Beverley I Peggy’s brother i.Ted! She said nothing, too lost in ■peculation and thought, and when <he looked up Blake had gone. i Ada took her hat and her stick presently, and went out. She had seen the ladles from the Manor with sticks. She was as smart and good-looking as they— or so she decided. She took her way down the country toad that skirted the trees In the park. All the way she was cogitating piecing the tiling together. Belton and Beverley! Peggy’s brother! Peggy’S guilty face that night—after England's affair! Ted’s car and good ■lothes, and mysterious coming and going—with Mrs Alison’s pale, anxious face! „ Suppose Belton was Ted? Why, it <ll fitted in!. . She found herself at the gate of the yaw, and she stood before it and Ifioked in curiously. uncle had told her who lived fcare/and Ada’s mind had fastened at jtade, like an evil fly, upon the story. Why ihould Mr Michael England live m & secret place like this? He, who rtrtulft have taken a castle, or a moated trange? Living h?re alone, with an old soldier servant! Ada “thought evil ** of most people—it was the cast fit her mind. She did It quite naturas a matter of course. And as etood there now, looking in curi- , & message boy came Up with vy basket. He whistled, and a called from the Masse; “I left ata open for you.' Bring the ; to the back.’' And the boy, Whistling, pushed the gate and went eyes gleamed. She was injjfcsdy curious. Suppose she took a Ineep at the house? Saw what there nv&s to see! Fancy, if she came upon tny nice little scandal connected with fclchael England! He was always iuiked of as “so proper." Such a ■tick I She could see herself going hack to England’s and'telllng the girls! Mfohael. England had snubbed her—looked over her head. Oh, If she ioould pay him back I I So she slipped in. She could pretend* If caught, that she didn't know lived here, and had mistaken the Muse for the Vicarage—being a eifangerl Any lie would do—she -was < ready liar, aiid. found them quite KXfiple and easy, and a “very present Jljjp in time of trouble.” s3<j • she sped through the path In B hedges. “ Keep to the Right” •Sks the legend on a little label near entrance, and Ada kept to her l. ?3ho came upon the pretty cottage JSf the first pink glow in the sky shone ©h the window’s, and then the sun handfuls of gold upon them. A place— well cared for, with soft ftttrrm, gold curtains, and a great bed Sf putple pansies running under the Wfiddws. She was greatly taken witn ft, but she could see nothing suspicjouS,' . ‘ ■ L Sir? went -round to the back, then, hMf eyes eager, though she did feel a liltie dervous. After all, if she was GSLUght prowling here, it might be ttvkward. And then, suddenly, she Heard a voice coming from a window. It sefemed rambling oddly. b“ Peggy!" It kept repeating. “Peggy! n sorry Peggy. I didn’t mean to Ing you into it! They musn’t put Mr in prison! Poor little Peggy!.. * i Binding ices 1 I don’t like It. . after all, she was a little sport, and didn’t give me away at England’d.'No,$8 didn’t Chips. And she could ’ what was this? What did she hear f Ada’s eyes gleamed. She-crept up near she l vvindowi It was quite low, and faced the back of the hedges. And she looked in, standing on tiptoe on thq Jfiinsids; ' ; . She c6uld see the room and. the &6e bn the bed opposite the window pale face, with a fever flush and Wild eyes,. He. kept muttering and tilkln& his head tossing, . ; HiS face —why, it was Ted Beverley’s! Idee! Peggy’s brother. Ted! Oh! ihd saw'lt all! And he was “ Belton ’ dfld Md stolen the pearls And—liiiohtiel England, the “ proper ’’ and ifte fnlmdoulate, was hiding him here 1 Fdr Peggy’s sake! He and Peggy were in it together! Adi felt so righteously Indignant that she -nearly tfalled out there and then, but she had always stood In awe of Michael England, and she had a very sure knowledge that Michael England might he idd fetich for her—and snub her viciously I He could sit on people, she kfiew. Besides, it would be far better and more satisfactory to do it all legally and in order. To set Blake ou their track. To tell Blake! Then he could come up here and arrest Ted, and perhaps Michael England, for being what was it?—accessory after the fact! The great Michael England! And perhaps Peggy also! Aaa s rnjfiij worked on. All sorts of dazzlidg .possibilities crossed her mind, A Reward? Did the police reward people helping them? The Admiral or Mrs Silas P. Hunt might do that! She turned away then, startled. She could hear voices—voices coming into the room. She drew to the side, screened by the. dark, glossy leaves of the myrtle which grew over the house, <nd she listened. . ... Michael England’s voice, and the doctor's 1 Oh, if she could only hwbetter! They were low and grave, end Tea he S Xd n S SETon hohtod ’’IVSrSr Michael England W something about wanting to know tho truth. Would need to tell someone> And the doctor.. He th ° usht n . tl L e eg would be a change presently. Oh, yes, would tell him if the danger was imminent” And'.then something in Michael England's voice, very low an confidential/ "and the doctor again. ''Of course—of course, I guite un-

derstand! You can trust me, Mr England.. Quite so—any excitement might be fatal.. Yes, yes. 11l call again in the evening. Just keep on with what I gave you—all we can do. “ He would call again." Ada said to herself. “Will- he? But perhaps someone else will call, too, Mr Michael England.” , o But she must be getting away. She must not be caught here. The doctor knew her—a horrid, dull, uninteresting Scot, with sarcastic eyes. She crept out to the gate, and to her joy saw it was still open. She was just going through when a voice from the other side called sharply: “ Hullo i And who may you be Miss?" Michael England’s servant, evidently waiting to see the doctor out. She could see his car standing down the road. Ada drew herself together, and gave Waller a haughty stare. “ I’m sorry,” she said loftily. Inj a stranger here. I'm staying at th inn, and I was trying to see the Vicar i I fancied this was the Vicarage. A boy had left the gate open, so I went In. Sorry if you’re annoyed." , “Yes, and I’ll walk up the boys back!” the other growled. “Vicarage ain’t the least like this! Parish don t usually put a vicar where you can t get at’im do they?" “ No,” Ada said sweetly, Vicar s don’t usually have anything to hide! I see you have Illness, for I see Dr. Spence’s Fox'd. Nothing serious, I hope?” She looked at him keenly. “No nothing, serious.” Waller gave ner a vicious glance. “ Anything else you’d like to know? Don’t 'estiate to ask!” “ No. Thank you so much, Ada said. She always said” Thank you so much" at England’s with her best smile, if the customer bought a lot. She did not give Waller her best smile, and she walked away, swinging her stick and humming an air. Waller stood glaring after her. The cheek of her! “Now, who is she? Wish I’d ad ’er in the Barrack Square," he muttered. “Nasty female cat, that’s wot she is!" Should he tell Mr Michael? Ada got home, still ruminating, her eyes full of evil light. But she told her uncle and aunt nothing. Both her aunt and he were great gossip lovers, and to tell them would be to tell all the village. She meant to keep this choice morsel for Blake. So she waited in the sitting room, and said nothing, turning -over in her mind all she would tell Blake and all she had heard Ted say.

Oh, a nice story! A very pretty story! Michael England hiding the truth, hiding the thief! And now it would all come out, and she would be thanked.

Sho would be In the limelight—perhaps In the “Daily Mirror?" Then Ada thought of something, suddenly and frowned. What \vould she say about how she got there? People might not applaud a girl who crept round a house and peeped in to a window? Was there any story she could tell which could In- any way disguise this fact? Not wrong, of course, to look in a window—but, Just —somehow Ada could visualise Michael England’s eyes when he heard! She had meant to get takeh on again at England’s when she tired of rusticating. .But if hers was the hand that let in the light on him? Well, in any case, she could tell the Vicarage story to Blake..not before her uncle and aunt, who, of course, being simpletons, would probably call out: “ But. Ada, you. know the Vicarage Is In the Bodley road!”

But Blake did not come, and Ada grew Impatient. She heard her uncle lock up, and the stragglers from the bagatelle board go down the road. The sweet peace of a summer night In the country settled over the inn. Ada could hear the chirp of sleepy birds as she went to her room and got Into her old four-poster bed, her aunt saying “Good-night, Ada, my giri," as she passed. Ada felt very cross. She had hoped, to tell Blake and get him off to the Maze that night! She wanted to ■get on with the denouement! She hated being kept, waiting. She was quite cross when she finished breakfast, and still he had not come, and her aunt looked at her perplexedly* Why should Ada want the Inspector back? She snapped at them both, and wire her most vixenish look, afid Hobbs confided to his wife, he wouldn’t be sorry when she went back home! He 'adn’t’no use for cross looks in the Angler's Rest," he said. CHAPTER XXVI. «We Have Come Home.” Mr Michael England Is on the ‘phone, Madam* He would like to speak to yod ’’ 41 Oh, all-right, Southgate!" Rosemary went into the library ano closed the door, calling out cheerily: Hullo, Michael! Why don’t you ■’come over to lunch? Everyone Is out, except Mrs P. Silas and myself.” She stopped then, and her face changed She listened to all Michael had to say In his grave voice. It seemed a long story. Then: “Yes, Michael, ID send her at once.... Yes, of course I’ll wait. And—l’m to tell her nothing? And she is to go at once? I’l3 send her in the Baby Austin, Michael, with Crlcheth. It can wait for her. All right, Michael, of course I trust you! Goodbye, old boy!" She stood and thought a moment, perplexedly, then she walked up the shallow stairs. Her eyes were grave and troubled as she entered the room where Peggy sat, pale and quiet, sewing by the window. The girl looked up, startled, terrified, and Rosemary saw the expression and went up and laid her hand on. her arm.

“Don’t look like that, Peggy!” she said. “But it’s a message from Michael England—from the Maze." “Worn Mr Michael England!” Peggy gasped. “For me?" “ Yes. You are to go at once. Peggy to the Maze, Someone is there you know—very ill! Michael told me to tell you that. I’ll go and order the. car. Get your hat. Peggy, don’t look so white—! He—you know Michael England will, do all that he can—for ■you—for anyone! I think he Is one of the best and kindest men who ever lived!"

Peggy said nothing, yet the words somehow lingered in her heart like music, and seemed to dull Its awful, throbbing Year and dread. The “someone” must be Ted! “Very ill!” Ted In the Maze! But with Michael England ? Oh, yes, he was “ one of the best." She was ready when the car came round, and Rosemary gave the pitiful little face a quiet kiss In the library. Poor little Peggy! Her feet, Rosemary decided, were set on one of the bitter places of life—the thorns would pierce them. And after all, we tread the Via dolorosa alone. “ Someone she loved." Well, she could only wait for elucidation. Peggy, In the car,.was borne swiftly on, and got out at the little gate, which Waller opened, expressionless as usual.

“I will take you right in, Miss,”

Up through the hedges to the pretty, peaceful house, bathed in the glad light of a sunny day, a day when Death, and all it means, seems far off and Incredible. And then, as in a dream, Peggy saw the door open and saw Michael England’s face, his eyes of pity. They seemed to shelter and embrace her. He came and took her hand, answering her unspoken question. “ Peggy, it is—yes, it is—who you think! He was shot that night, Peggy, and hid in the ice house—and the wound got neglected and poisoned. It has been blood poisoning. I took him in—for your sake—and I did what J could, and got the doctor. But I’m afraid Peggy—l’m afraid —it is—the end." She looked up in his face with sad eyes of shock. “ There Isn’t time to send for anyone else?” “ No, Peggy. It can’t be long. ... And he only asks for you—seems to think he caused you sorrow and fear.”

Peggy looked up at him again. Involuntarily she placed her little cold hand on his, and Michael’s warm, tender clasp closed over it. He led her into the room, and Peggy could see Ted’s face on the pillow. A dying face. So changed! And yet with something young about It—a boy’s face.

He did not seem to know her, only gazed vacantly. Peggy run up and knelt down, and laid her soft face beside him. She was thinking of her mother—of the old days when they played together in the Vicarage garden. Oh, if her mother knew! Her .poor mother! “Ted—dear Ted!" she whispered. “It’s Peggy come! Do you know mo, Ted?”

He raised his eyes and looked at her, and seemed to remember.

“Yes, of course!” he whispered. “Of course! But I say, Peggy, it’s all right, and they won’t —won’t do anything to you for helping me! He’s going to make it all right!" He looked back at Michael, standing at the foot of the bed, and seemed to gather strength, and spoke again. “ He is one of the best, the very best! He says, maybe—over there, a man gets....another chance....!” Another long pause. “ I’ve given him the pearls, Peggy. He’ll make it all right.” Then he stopped again. Peggy’s hand caught his and held it.

“Dear Ted!” she sobbed. “Dear Ted!”

It was all she could say, but his blue eyes fixed wonderlngly on her face. “ Queer!" he muttered. "Queer! You and mother... .after all—l was ....Queer! not to stop... .loving. ,a fellow... .and caring...."

He lay and looked at her, and hls cold hand held hers. Peggy felt as if the world went out. She was dimly aware that the doctor came, and that both he and Michael spoke to Ted, but he never spoke again. He only lay and looked at her, .and held her hand. So he drifted out and out—and the waves of life retreated and returned, and retreated and returned.... Then the tibe ebbed out—and the last wave did not return. There was a great hush. Outside the merry twitter of a bird came through the window.Peggy felt Michael’s hand on her shoulder* and she rose.

“ Will you come, Peggy, now? he said. will you come? He does not need uS any more.”

She was standing in the pretly drawing room facing him, very pale, but quite calm. Michael watched her, then put her gently into a chair beside a great bowl of fragrant carnations.

He made his tone, purposely, very calm and brotherly. " There are just one or two things to tell You, Peggy, before you go back to Rosemary. I don’t want you to worry and be afraid. He is, of eburse, beyond all law, now, and any fear of detection, but, Peggy, he gave me the pearls, and I told Rosemary to tell Mrs Silas P. that I will bring them to her to-night. Rosemary said Mrs Silas P. was tho best of good souls, and wSuld be quite glad to hush it up—for—they caught Chips! Blake caught him, last night, and she’ll get them all back. So nothing will be known, as to who ‘Belton’ wasi Da you realise that, Peggy? Nothing will be known!”

" Thahk you!" Peggy breathed. "Oh, thank you I I don’t know how to thank you! He—might have died In prison —but for you!” Michael said nothing for a minute. Great tears coursed down her little white face.

“ I can never thank you enough—never ! For all! And Mother will, try to thank you, too." “ Your Mother knew —all about him?"

“ She knew most, I think," said Peggy. “ But not all 1 I didn't tell her about the affair at England’s.” She choked a little. “I spared her all I could. Y r ou see, I was there, in the shop, locked up, and when I woke, I heard them—and saw Ted I He let ■me out."

She stopped. “ But she knew that you loved him?" Michael said.

“ Oh, yes. She loved him, of course, dearly, too. It was her I thought of most, dear mother 1 Her only son—” “Her only son?” He gave a startled i cry.. “Her son? Was Ted her son? •Your brother? Oh, Peggy, is that true? Your brother?”

“ Yes, of course,” Peggy said What did you think? Didn’t he. tell you? !Who did you think he was?” 1 “ I thought he was your lover, Peggy,” he said. “He told me his ; name was Beverley. I—l always ! thought he was your lover! He asked me at the last to send for ‘Peggy.’ 'I heard you say once you loved him. Oh, Peggy, Peggy! If you knew all I have suffered!"

“Suffered?" She gazed at him with lovely blue eyes, startled and perplexed, and then came a bewildered joy which filled her heart to bursting. Oh, what was this? He had thought she loved him, and saved Ted for her sake, in spite of that! “ Don’t you see, Peggy," he whispered. “ I loved you! And then 1 thought—that you cared for him—and there was no chance for me. But is there, Peggy? Is there?" He caught her hand in his.

She had risen, as if bewildered, but hei* eyes were melting into happiness and love. She understood then, all her secret ache and longing when she thought of him. This was—love—! Love for “Mr Michael!”

“Why, (Michael, yes!” she whispered very low. He took her in his arms and kissed her.

“He’s a deuced good fellow and a lucky one to boot,” the Admiral growled. “ For she’s a dashed lovely little girl! I always said so, Rosemary. You will perhaps not deny that!"

They were driving back from the church where there had been a very quiet little wedding. The Admiral had given Peggy away in an almost empty church. Peggy’s mother was too ill to be there, but Peggy and Michael were going to her at once. Rosemary looked up at him and laughed.

“ Oh, yes, of course you admired her, Bill, but all the same you didn't > see through it at all, and thought her |a bit bf a flirt! Come now, own up!” i “None the worse for that! ‘AU 'women are at heart a rake,’ doesn’t some chap say—Pope or someone? J her. And Michael says they’ii" come down later cn to the

Maze” so we’ll ® c6 thcm 116*8 e deuce of a fine fellow! I say* did you see the Prowse girl, with Mrs Hobbs, at the back of the church? Blake told me about her! I could see her stare at Peggy’s pearls! Michael made her put them on. But that little girl doesn’t need pearls!” Rosemary laughed. “ You are almost as far gone as dear old Michael!” she said. “Never was there a more radiant bridegroom! But he’ll need to make it up to her — f or i • think that little girl came through a bad time! Odd! She seemed to love that poor creature, for all he was such a bad lot!” “ Course she did—women all love the bad lots, bless ’em!” In Lancaster Gate “old England ’’ sat that evening, staring rather dully at two telegrams. Harold always corresponded by telegram. Saved trouble. He wired that ho, was off to New York to get married. He was marrying the •American widow he met at “ Monte.” Ho had Informed his father before she had “pots.” Harold thought he would settle in “ little old New York” for a time. And Michael wired he was coming home —bringing someone with him." A fishing pal, old England supposed. Michael was not the marrying kind. ' He sighed a little. The quiet of the room seemed to echo about him. It was the hour when, for the old,"the air is full of lost voices, and they stretch out lonely arms and feel the time Ion?, till they, too, can push the dark door open. A fishing pal! He had looked forward to a talk and a smoke with Michael. Now he would be de trop. He was so lost in thought, he did not hear the key in the latch, and only looked up when the door opened. Michael and a girl! A slip of a girl with a little hat low over her blue eyes, and a hint of red-gold curls behind her little ears. Michael ■ — Michael radiant-eyed, brought her up and they stood before him. . „ “Father! This is my wife, Peggy. We were married to-day down at the Admiral’s. We have come home, Father. Won’t you kiss her?" The old man sat staring up at Peggy, shy, smiling, happy, with gentle, rather pleading eyes. A strange, sweet memory of his wife of Pansy—cams to him. Perhaps it was something In the look. He rose, with a little cry of joy, and laid both old hands on her shoulders. "My dear little daughter!” he said. THE END.