"STAR" TILES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10416, 21 March 1912, Page 4

"STAR" TILES.

THE Tltfsf* tWO THOUSAND.

*By FRANK CONDON.)

[AII Rights Reserved.]

There was once a racing-ear driver, who is now driving a taxi-cab through London's network of streets; he lost his ambition, his skill, and his recklessness. His name was Ralph Wilton. Tho cause was a girl. . The girl was Madge Jones —plain Jones, the plainest name ever attached to such a distinctly unplain person. It may crass assumption to make the unqualified assertion that Madge Jones was responsible for the deterioration of Wilton. It is possible that he would have lost his grip and become a taxi-cab driver had lie never seen the girl; but the simplest way is to examine the facts and form your own conclusion. Wilton arrived at Brooklands on June 16, and shook hands with two hundred palpitating admirers. His mechanic, "William Thompson, accompanied him, and the railway brought his two racingcars ln,ter in the day. During the morning the driver took a leisurely skim round the course in a borrowed machine, searching for sleepers and testing the bank turns. A dozen other cars were grunting round the enormous oval in preparation for ten days of hard racing. On the second swing over the twomile stretch, Wilton shut off his engine, and the car-slid along silently until the speedometer marked a lazy ten miles an hour. The mechanic turned to the driver with a question in his pale blue syes. "Bill," said' IjTiltM. without turning Bis head, " diet jpu. notice a girl in a blue dress, with white lace about her throat and a red feather in her hat?'' "Not me, replied the mechanic. "T iave been exnminin' this borrowed old wheezer we're riding in, and it's so amusing that I must have missed the party. What's the matter with the fady'P" " When we pass the grand stand, take a look. She was standing under the refreshment booth at the end of the stand." • . .. " Go ahead," said Bill, calmly. " 111 look if it kills me."

The borrowed car jumped ahead, and Bill Thompson dutifully 6tared at the grand stand. Wilton slowed down to a peaceful amble as he passed the refreshment booth. " Well?" he asked. "Well, what?" Bill returned. "I saw her, didn't you? What's the matter with you?" "Is it a woman—a real, live woman?" "Looks remarkably like one," replied Bill. " I'll get out and ask the fady if you like." " I was afraid for a moment that my «yes had fooled me. Bill, in all your worthless life, did you ever behold such a beautiful creature? Did you ever suspect that the day would come when a benign Providence would permit you to feast your eyes upon such a stunning bundle of glorious feminity?" " l gather from this sudden monologue you're spouting that you have taken a fancy to this young lady," said Bill amiably.

"A fancy! More than that, Bill—much more than that. I am going to get off this old traction engine in a minute and find out who that gorgeous beauty is, and then I'm going to hang .round after lier for tho rest of her life."

" And be scratched," said Bill thoughtfully. "And not be allowed to drive in the races because of the danger to strange ladies through being ohased round by the dottv driver. I thought you came down to Brooklnnds to carry off some of the necessary; but it looks like you're going in for society. Perhaps you'd prefer to drive ihe Bullet 'in a dress-suit and, a topWilton deigned no response. He flurried the car once more round tho course, and returned, it to its owner. Then ne disappeared, leaving Thompson to look after the two raeing machines when the railway sent them in. " I wonder if the fat-head will 1 ry to meet her," Thompson mused. " This ia the first time I've known' him to play the giddy goat." Ml" Wilton did not try to meet the vision in blue. No effort was required. When he left his mechanic, the driver sought out the girl, and took up a position at the barrier, where he pretended to be hugely interested in the preparatory sprints of the other drivers. The girl turned his way. He could feel that she was looking at him, and, for some unknown and powerful reason, he could not twist ni.s head and face her. Then the lady in blue walksd straight towards him. " You are the famous Mr Wilton, are you not?" she said calmly. Wilton took off his cap with speed. " I'm Wilton," lie returned, smiling; " but I don't believe I'm very famous." "Indeed you are. The papers are full of your triumphs. I trust that you will forgive me for speaking to you in this informal way, but I'm very much interested, in your work. I know all about the coming races, you see, and unless you win most of them I'll be freatly disappointed. My name is [adge Jones—you don't think me forward, do you?" "Not in the least. I'm a little flus-

tered to think that you should take any interest in my racing. It isn't once in a blue moon that—you'll excuse my saying it—that such a charming laclv pays any attention to racing-car driver like me."

Slie smiled, showing twin rows of pearly teeth that instantly brought up portie thoughts in Wilton's mind

They talked about racing, dhe discovered that Madge Jones knew an astonishing lot about it. She had the ,-ec.ent records at her finger-tips; she know of the drivers who had done work in the past; she displayed familiarity with the conditions of the coming contests at Brooklands. Furthermore, she knew a racing-car from the poop-deck to the bilge-beams, and her information concerning mechanical matters astounded Wilton most of all.

" You are interested in racing, he said, admiringly. " It's odd thai yon should be."

"Not at all," she replied, "I lov< it. If the association would acccp me, I think I would make my entr. at o;n:o."

Wilton, looking into the girl's eye? found himself wishing he was an a soeiation of come sort, with the opportunity to accept her. He decided that his acceptance, under such conditions, would be hurried to the point of impetuosity. Later on, the driver found his mechanic hissing over the two racers, which had been safely housed. Wilton whooped joyfully, danced up and down the shed, and refused to be a sane person. Bil] Thompson, from a prostrate position on his abused stomack under Bullet No. 1, cast a jeer at his .festive employer. Wilton paid not the slightest attention to his mechanic or to his twocylinder pets. He went for a walk, and talked to himself constantly of a radiant girl in a blue dress who was interested in him, and whose teeth were of the snowy whiteness of the sun-kissed o'ceai; foam. Smachers came in brown silk spats and a gold-headed cane. He inquired of Thompson, and Thompson smothered a string of profane words. " He's gone for a walk," the mechanic replied. , "The cars got in this afternoon, but he hasn't looked them over. He's a little off his head jasC now. but it's oruy temporary. He'll be behind the wheel to-morrow, or I'll haul him up with a crowbar. Mr Smathers looked concerned. He was the vice-president of the Blueher Motor-Car Import Company, and lie had direct, charge of its racing activities, and consequently was in a position to direct the conduct of Mr Wilton That exalted young man derived a brilliant income from the Blueher Company. He drove Bullet No. 1, the pride of the makers, n fifteen hundred pounds car. heavy as lead, and of one hundred and twenty horse-power. Bullet No. 2 whs the company's entrant in the events for lighter machines. It was a comparative weakling. Its horsepower was a trifling ninety. Both cars were of the six-cylinder type, and they had rendered beautiful accounts of themselves under the steady hand and eye of the young driver. He had won fortv-one races, large and small, against cars of all weights, prices and power, and in competition with all the brilliant Englishmen and foreigners. 'Hie Blueher Company particulaly desired to shine among the leaders during the racing at Brooklands. If possible, the company would havo been pleased to win every race in which its cars were entered, and, if that were asking too much, it would he satisfied if good old Bullet No. 1 pushed its grey nose ahead in the Tilton Stakes. In fact, if Ralph Wilton failed to win the Tilton, the Blueher Company would take him into account in a painful and personal manner. The reason for this was that the Tilton was worth two thousand pounds, and now and then that sum of money will attract even a motor-car manufacturer.

Mr Smathers eventually discovered his driver, and conferred with him at length. Wilton reported that everything was promising. The track suited him. He was pleased with entries of other manufacturers, and felt confident that he could make them look silly. The two Blueher cars were in splendid condition, and nothing short of climbing the side of the grand srtand could keep him from coming in first.

Mr Smathers wired a pleasing report to the London offices, and patted Wilton encouragingly. The single fact that he failed to learn was that- Mr Wilton was infatuated about a girl in a blue dress, and the reason for this was that Mr Wilton thought that such information was none of Mr Smathers' business, which is true. The Tilton Stakes concluded the ten days' racing. It was by far the most valuable. Companies that manufactured heavy cars reflected on how nice it would be to win the Tilton and boast about it in the newspaper advertisements.

During the early days of the meeting Driver Wilton displayed a woeful and disgraceful lack of form. Whether he drove Bullet No. 1 or No. 2, the result was the same. He could not win. He wobbled all over the big track, got in the way of men who were trying to win, ran down a track attendant, and did everything but the thing he was there to do, and for which the

Blueher Company was paying him a handsome salary.

Bill Thompson pleaded, begged and cursed. He wept over the hot. spluttering engine, and poured lubricating oil iut > every possible hole from the crank-hnmlle in front t-o the lampbracket behind. "What's tho matter with yon?" lie asked Wilton, trying manfully to be respectful. " I don't, know," the driver replied. " You've started six times, and you haven't won yet. You haven't even won a cup. You haven't won the handle of a cup. Jf there was seven cups offered in each race you couldn't win a saucer. This is the limit—the complete outside and tlie remotestboundary 1"

" I'm doing my best. I've poured four thousand gallons of oil over that moving-van which we arc temporarily playing with in the guise of a racing motor-car. It can't be the car.

" It's you—you and that that—that eminently deserving and astoundingly beautiful girl in the blue dress. She s got your spunk; she's, got your nerve! You think you're in love, and it's interfered with your steering. If you keep on in this wny, what do you think the Blueher Company will think of .you P" "You shut up," retorted Wilton listlessly. " I've done ruy best to win. I never do anything else, do I ? There must be something the matter with the machines. And don't talk about the girl in blue. I won't have her mentioned by you, and if you do it again you'll be sorry for it."

" There are eleven cars entered in the Tilton," Thompson went on calmly. " and to-morrow's the day. You know what- the Tilton means—two thousand cold little shiners. Judging by your consistent work during the week, you will probably figure in the Tilton as the man who drove the car that came in eleventh.

" And if anybody carelessly adds a laundry-cart or a baby-perambubtor to the entries, you'll most likely come in twelfth. If you don't win that race Mr Smathers will he in a nice way. The Blueher people in London have wired him to stop reporting each day until you win a victory." "I'll win it if I can," Wilton grunted. "If I can't, I can't." Wilton had been talking with Madge Jones during the week. He bad found hej- sympathetic and encouraging. Once or twice he had tried to speak to her about her eyes, but she had turned the conversation to spark pines and carburetters. " T wonder if I'm losing because of Madge " Wilton thought. "Tt, can't he. I'll win the Tilton. or I'll break up everv car in it."

A tall, thin man. who wore whiskers, and who knew all about motor-cars that there was to be known, left, the London offices and placed himself in a train bound for the Prooklands course. Two other experts left for a small town in the Xorth to see about something important.

Still others hocan to writ© out lrvn<r telegrams and to read other telegrams that camp in answer. "Wheels were moving everywhere, and Ralph Wilton knew nothinir.

The tall, thin man emerged from a T'ullman and asked immediately for Mr Smathers, who had deprived himself of sleep for three nights in order to get in a fitting amount of time to worry

The two held a consultation in the

hotel smoking-room, after which Mr Smathers .sent off a whole sheaf of telegram*. and, when this had been done Mr Smothers and Mr Lord—the tail, thin man—walked out, arm in arm and discovered the Blucher driver in the act of talking to a girl in a blue dress. " If you'll pardon the interruption. Wilton," Mr Lord began, "there's something rather important I'd like to tell you." Shortly after Wilton hoard the news. It. was the culmination of the idea that had provoked the Blucher Company to action, and Mr Lord had been the man from whom the idea had sprung. "We're going to take the Cravton out of the No. V'Mr Lord continued, " and perilans you'll have a chance, in the Tilton. We'll have to hurry, because there isn't a year to do it." Wilton looked absolutely stunned for a moment.

" You're not going to fake out the Cravton —I mean, you're not going to put in some other engine?" he said, his voice making the remark a. question.

v< We are," Lord said. '' You'll drive, Bullet No. 1 to-morrow with a Jones engine, and we trust you will win."

Wilton had won forty-one races wi + h his two cars. Both of them carried Cravton engines. They had always carried Cravtons. The Cvayton was the pet engine of a hundred racingcar drivers, and to replace it before a big race was like taking the driver's very heart, out and substituting another man's.

Wilton knew nothing about the Jones engine, except that- is was a sixcylinder one. like the Cravton. He had heard the new engine mentioned in the London offices of liis company, but he had paid little • attention to it, and he had never dreamed that his beloved Cravton could be replaced by any other engine. "Where is the new engine?" he asked, when the tragedy of the event had passed over. "Tt will be in late to-night." said Lord, " and I wish you'd remain to tfjke charge of it. By working steadily and quickly, we can get the Crayton out and the Jones in early tomorrow, and vou'll have plenty of time to get it in order. We'll have some of the Blucher men here in another hour to give you plenty of help. "I don't want you to feel that this change of engines is n reflection on you, Wilton. It is something the company decided to do, and the company is larger than you or 1. " You have made a miserable showing during the week, and the Blucher people know that you can do better. It looks very much as though the Crayton engine were to blame for our lack of success, and we want you to try to win to-morrow with the new engine." "Of course I'll try to win, the driver answered."

He watched the removal of the Crayton with a gloomy face. At midnight came a special train, and the Jones engine was removed to the racing-shed as tenderly as though it were made of spun glass. There are six hundred different kinds of petrol engines. The Jones differed from all of them, just as it differed in minor points from the Cravton six. A quick nervous little man came with the new engine, accompanied by a staff of operators, and they went, about the work with a speed that gratified Wilton, who found himself watching the. nervous captain of the crew in admiration.

His admiration was further increased when lie learned that tlie little man was tli© inventor and owner of the Jones engine, and that there was no point whatever upon which he needed instruction. When the work was completed at dawn, Wilton looked over what had been done. He tested the new engine with some misgivings, hut discovered that it worked with the smoothness of a kitten crossing a velvet rug. An hour later lie tried it in a five-mile spin. Ho could see little difference between his beloved Cray ton and the invader. If there was a differenco it was that the Cravton seemed surer, and as he slid round the big track again and again, his dislike for the Jones engin© increased, and his c-onfidence in the result of the afternoon conflict diminished. He met Madge Jones on the verandah of the hotel. She was talking to a group of friends, but loft them ail "Wilton approached. "I've heard about the change in your engines," she said enthusiastically. "Now you ought to win, suroJrr " '"l'm afraid not," he replied. " Nothing was wrong with my Crayton. Tt's a crazy, foolish notion on the part of the Blucher Company. They send me a strange engine on the very eve of the race-' It may be a. good enginG. but it can't be as reliabl© afi the Cravton.

" I don't know it. _ Tt's probably full of mean tricks, and it'll spring them at mo Avhon the Tilton starts. I don t know this Jones engine or this man Jones who came down with it. I shan't have a chance —not the smallest chance." . " I wouldn't look at it in that way, she '.protested. " I'ni almost positive you'll win if you try. I have a feeljng that you will. Why, just think I In the first place, the Jones engine is the sa.me name as my own. Isn't that a lucky omen, when you reflect that I shall be wishing as hard as I can that you'll win the race? And it won't stick and run dry. I. am sure you won't have any trouble with it, and I wish you'd trv to win—if only for my sake. You know," she said with a smile, " I've made a bet on the Blucher Bullet No. 1, and you, so you mustn't make me lose it-. 5 "If I do win, it will be because the engine has the same name as yours," he said somewhat more cheerfully. " It never occurred to me before." " I'll be clown in our usual stand," ghe continued. We're giving a little party, and we are going to pay special attention to you, so do your best. '

" Are von going to pay special attention to me?" he asked. " I am," she replied,, looking straight into his eyes. "Then I'll win." Eleven snorting, smoking thunderbolts shot away from the starter for the Tilton Stakes of two thousand pounds. Wilton, in Bullet No. 1, was in fifth position as he passed the stand of spectators. Bill Thompson crouched beside his driver. " Let her go ! Let her go!" he urged at intervals. "We've got to win this race in the first- thirty miles." At twenty miles Bullet No. 1 was in second position, arid the pace was phenomenal. Wilton covered fifty miles, half the race, in forty-six minutes and ten seconds, and, as he passed the mark, he was a mile aud a half ahead of the nearest car. Thn No. 1 did seventy-five miles in sixty-eight minutes, and Wilton was two' miles ahead ot the next car. He finished seven miles in front of it, and his time for the hundred miles was ninety-one minutes and twelve seconds. Mr Smathcrs and Mr Lord congratulated him before he could clear the grime from his goggles. Thompson danced up and down like a wild Indian. A figure in blue waved a bundle of white roses towards him from a certain box in the grand stand, and, as he passed below it on his way to the shed, the flowers fell at his feet. He picked them up and pressed them to his lips. At that precise moment the nervous little inventor of the Jones engine sent B wire to the Blnrher Company congratulating them and modestly felicitating bimsplt. Wilton, smiling and a little shaky, sought the one who had dropped the flowers. They stood together, apart from the rest, talking in low tones. " I won," he said, " and I did it for you." " I know you did," she whispered, " and 1 shall never it, You have

no idea what your winning meant to mo—to us."

Sho turned slightly. "To us?" ho saitl wonderingly, unbelieving. She nodded. The nervous, quick little man who had installed the Jones engine approached. He was wreathed in smiles. He clasped his two hands together joyously and unclasped them. When he reached the two he took the girl's hand in his own and shook them ap and down. "Isn't it great!" he said. "Isn't it fine! Think what it means to us!" '■ Exactly what i said this instant to Mr Wilton."

" I've just received a wire from the Blucher people. They've finally capitulated, and all because of this victory. .1 knew 1 could do it- if I had the chance. They agree to fit every car they make for the next ten years with the Jones engine. It means that we're rich beyond the dreams of avarice."

"But, my dear, you haven't thanked Mr Wilton yet." "I do thank him, I do thank him," exclaimed the little man. "I thank him from the bottom of my heart for winning this race with my engine. I thank liim for your sake, Madge. Itmeans much to you also. Introduce me, my dear, to Mr Wilton, because I have not yet met him fonnally." Then Mrs Madge Jones introduced her husband, Mr Ix!slie Jones, the inventor and sole owner of the Jonos engine, to Mr Ralph Wilton, the rac-ing-car driver, whoso, notable victory ill the Tilton Stakes accomplished exactly what Mr Jones had been striving for so long—alliance with the Blucher Motor-Car Company.