LOVE AND A SHOP GIRL.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 144360, 26 March 1914, Page 5

LOVE AND A SHOP GIRL.

ATTRACTIVE LOVE STORY OF DOMESTIC INTEREST.

By M. C. E. BAKER, Author of “The Sin of Carine,” “One Guilty Deed,” “The Wooing of Wendy,” “The Power of Love,’ “Sir Geoffrey Dacro,” etc. etc.

CHAPTER XL. A MIDNIGHT ABDUCTION. Of course, it was Miss Binning’s idea. She had spoken to Alf about it, and he had spoken to his uncle. His “fiancy” was not getting on as (well as he could wish find he proposed to remove her to more comfortable .quarters and have a trained nurse to look after her.

Old Stile had offered no objection. He was anxious to see his nephew “fixed up” as soon as possible, and had agreed to defray the expense of this Hew move.

But it was not entirely consideration of Erica’s health that inspired Miss Binning to make this suggestion to Alf. Tho sales manageress had warned him that it was quite on. the cards that the “toff” might come to the shop to make inquiries about Erica. It was. therefore, advisable to get her away. This could be done quite easily and quietly on the afternoon of early closing day when no one was about, she said. She had, however, cunningly suppressed her own reasons for desiring the Removal of Erica—viz., fear of losing that thousand pounds. She had let Alf think that her suggestion was made on his behalf. ’

And so it camo about that “Daddy” Doyle now stood outside tho ddor of the erstwhile sick-room with a certain letter burning a hole in his pocket. :Rcmembering his promise to Sir Clive, he found himself in an awkward dilemma. He dared not entrust this letter to other hands. Ho must deliver it ■himself. But bow and where was he to find Erica? At this moment a startling thought occurred to him! What if Alt Goodrich and Erica had been married that ■■afternoon ? Ho wont slowly downstairs to his own room, outwardly calm, inwardly perturbed. But after a few moments’ reflection he came to tho conclusion that he had alarmed himself unnecessarily. They could only have been married at a Registry office, he argued, and he had seen Alf in the shop at four o’clock that afternoon, just before his own departure to Sir Olivo’s chambers. By that hour ail registry offices would have been closed for tho day. Moreover, the colleen could not possibly have been in a lit condition to stand the ceremony. Why sho wouldn’t have been able to hold the pen to sign her name, and no sane registrar could have failed to notice hor illness and make inquiries before allowing the marriage to bo ratified. 1 Even so, however, tho fact remained that she must bo found at once—that very night, indeed, for there was no knowing what the morrow might not bring forth. Suddenly “Daddy” remembered the trunk by the side of the empty stretcher upstairs. The colleen would be needing that. Miss Binning had evidently been packing it when disturbed by his knock at the door. “The blackguardly omadhauns!” ho muttered to himself, clenching his brawny fists, “they’re in league—that she-devil and that ferret-faced young rascal—they’re thinking that Sir Clive may be inquiring after the colleen, and they’re hiding her.” Having shrewdly hit upon this perfectly correct solution, ho was not surprised when, later on in the evening, Miss Binning asked him to go an errand for her. Would he mind running down to the bookstall at the Tube and getting that week’s copy of a certain paper she always read. She had intended to get a copy for herself that afternoon, she explained, but had forgotten. Her request, uttered in bland, casual accents, might easily have deceived anyone less crafty than tho old sergeant. He took the penny she gave him and •went off at once. Going a few yards up towards the main road, ho turned the corner of the shop and came to a Budden standstill.

Quickly facing about, he peeped cautiously round the corner and down the alley where the side-door was situated. He had not long to wait. Barely a minute had elapsed before Alf and Miss Binning bearing an old leather trunk between them. They put it down on the pavement, and Alf hurried np towards tho main street. Dodging between the traffic, “Daddy” Doric instantly slipped across to the further side of tho road, and from here saw Alf hail a four-wheeler cab, and drive back towards Miss Binning. The trunk was hoisted on top of the cab. Miss Binning and Alf got inside, and off they wont.

A “growler” is not a very speedy type of vehicle, for which “Daddy” Doyle was extremely grateful after a few minutes. He was not. in tho best of training, but he managed to keep his quarry in sight by jogging along at a steady “double.”

Towards Oxford Circus his chase led him, and then into a maze of sidestreets. He had to go cautiously now, for his footsteps wero no longer drowned in the roar of the traffic. Just as ho was wondering how many more minutes lie could possibly keep up his trot without bursting himself, the cab, which was now a. hundred ahead of him, pulled up. Creeping quietly up, and doing his utmost to restrain his labouring breath, the sergeant watched the occupants of tho cab alight. Tho trunk was handed down, and they carried it into the honso. Ho heard the door open and shut again, and waited until the cab -bad driven off.

Then it was the work of a moment for tho old soldier to note tho number of th© house and tho name of the street. There was a card in the window bearing the announcement “Apartments.” Turning about, he now mad© off at a quick walk, bought Miss Binning’s paper at tho nearest bookstall, and returned to the shop. When he hoard Alf Goodrich and Miss Binning return some hours later, he came out of Tiis room with the paper in his hand.

“Oh, thank you, Sergeant Doyle!” said the sales manageress, quite unconcernedly. “I really needn’t have troubled you after all, for Mr. Goodrich and I have just been out to the cinematograph, and I might have bought it myself.” Sergeant Doyle smiled a broad smile jrhen their backs were turned. Ho

shut himself up in his room again, and sat down to think. By eleven o’clock the shop was quiet. All the “young ladies” and “young men” had returned. Sergeant Doyle rose from his chair and unlocked a drawer in the table that stood in the middle of his room. He took out a small, black japanned cash box, and transferred some coins to his pocket. Then he put a few odds and ends into a little hand-bag, took up his hat, and quietly let himself out of the shop. Making straight for the house to which he had seen Erica’s trunk conveyed, he knocked boldly at the door. After some delay it was opened by a besmudged, tired-looking general servant.

■’Can I have a room?” asked the sergeant, stepping inside the narrow stuffy passage as soon as the door was opened. The servant disappeared, and tho sound of a muffled conversation proceeded from some inner room. A sour-visaged, elderly woman, dressed in rusty black, appeared, and scanned the sergeant from head to foot suspiciously. “It’s very late to be asking for rooms 1” she said.

Sergeant Doyle put on his most winning smile. "Faith—-an’ ye’d not bo tur-r-nin’ mo out afthcr mesilf having com/ here all the way from Oireland on Ihe ricommendalion of an ould pal, who was sthaying here awhile back and was never so comfortable in all Jus life!” “Oh—you’ve been recommended, have you? Might f ask by whom?” “Ail—ma’am come now—guess!” 'The sergeant was not in the least disconcerted by the question. His smile broadened as lie asked; “Mho’s the best lodger ye’vo had hero lately ” ■'There was an Irishman hero some weeks ago, Mr. Patrick O’Donneil!” The landlady sniffed as she replied. 'Hie recollection of Mr. Patrick O’Uonnell did not appear to fill her with unbounded joy. "The very wan, ma’am—wan of tho best- bhoys that ivver ”

•'But he left owing me eight and sixpence!” interrupted the woman severely. Sergeant Doyle's face assumed an expression of vast distress and surprise. ‘‘Patrick O'Donnell, I’ve not tho faintest notion who ye are, but whoiver ye are, ye're a scoundrel!” ho said to ’himself as ho dived into his pocket and produced a sovereign. • Pay yourself out of that ma’am, and let the rest go’ towards mo own account 1” ho said, tendering the coin with a brave flourish. ‘‘l'm certain sure ’twas only Pathrick’s forgettillness —terribly forgetful way ho had with him, bedad. And now-—it ye'd be so kind—l’m near dropping wid the want of a wink of sleep!” The sight and the touch of tho money had t*he desired effect. To have been unexpectedly recouped for an amount that had been written olf as hopelessly irrecoverable on her hooks was highly soothing to tho landlady. Her face relaxed into the nearest approach to a smile that she could manage. She turned and led the way upstairs. Sergeant Doyle followed. Nearing the top of the first flight, ho slipjted and made a tremendous clatter.

“Hush!” whispered the woman sharply. ‘‘There’s a young lady ill on this landing—l don’t want to have her wakened.” “A colleen ill? Which room? I’m a bit of a shnorer and ye’d belter not put mo anywhere near her if she sleeps light!” Tho landlady nodded towards a door on tho right of them, and went on in a ■hurried-whisper: “I’ll put you on the second floor, then, up the next flighl-F’ She led the way, and this time Sergeant Doyle followed without tripping. Tho landlady took him into a tiny room sparsely furnished with a truckle hod, a text on the wall and very little else. Lighting the gas sho bade him Goodnight and left him. Sergeant Doric tool: his boots off and sat down on the bed. (To bo continued.)