CROOKED COMPANY

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 851, 26 August 1933, Page 19 (Supplement)

CROOKED COMPANY

By

FRANCIS MARLOWE

Author of “The Secret of the Bandhi!ls,” “The Sunset Express,” etc.

CHAPTER XXXII. Anne Garrison, strong of faith in the outcome of her plan for freeing Phil from liia troubles, was finding her second term of imprisonment at the cottage more endurable than her first. Her clothes were not taken from her this time, and. though under Hopkins' constant surveillance, she was allowed freedom of the house and its quarteracre. She was given the same bedroom she had previously occupied, but, profiting by the lesson of her first escape. Hopkins had taken the precaution of nailing a stout cleat outside the window, so that while the sashes, which swung outward, might still open sufficiently to admit fresh air, they did not provide an aperture through which the slimmest person could pass. Perhaps it was as well for her that Doc Summers had made her guardianship Hopkins’ especial charge, and that lie, on this occasion, regarded it too seriously to delegate it in any respect to Mrs. Barney, for the stout, blowsy woman, a redoubtable shrew and virago when stirred by hate or anger, would undoubtedly have taken revenge for her beloved Barney's sufferings at Anne’s hands. Her earlier friendly disposition to the girl had completely vanished, and, in the first minute of her return, Anne, quailing before the woman’s ferocity of aspect and bitter vituperation, had "perhaps only been saved from a physical attack by Hopkins’ stern intervention and his warning of Doc Summers’ ireful vengeance. Thereafter Mrs. Barney contented herself with baleful looks and cold hostility of manner, but, as it •happened, from whatever unpleasantness Anne might have found in this attitude. Hopkins adroitly saved her, for he saw to it that there was as little contact as possible between them. It was he who released Anne from her room and conveyed her to the sitting room for breakfast. He served that meal, as well as her others, himself, and, throughout the day, with delicate and unostentatious diplomacy, inserted himself as a buffer at the stout woman’s approach, and sheltered Anne in every way from the aura of resentfulness which emanated from her. Of One-eyed Barney, Anne caught only one glimpse. With his injured arm in a sling, he was limping into the kitchen when she was descend ing the stairs to breakfast. He scowled at her evilly, and swung the kitchen door behind him before her lips could form a word of regret.

After breakfast, with Hopkins keeping her always in sight, Anne found interest for a while in an inspection of One-eyed Barney’s tidily-kept kitchen garden, passing from there to the fowl-run, and presently discovering pleasure in watching the antics of a fleet of downy, immature ducklings that were disporting themselves, under the watchful eyes of 'their stately Aylesbury parents, on the surface of a miniature lagoon formed by a brook that ran beside the bordering hedge of the paddock and orchard. Hopkins noted her smiling interest, and shortly thereafter brought her a bowl of warm middlings with which she brought the ducks, major and minor, to the close-clipped about her feet. After she had lunched Hopkins proposed that he bring some cushions for her to the orchard hammock, and when she had comfortably settled there he emerged from the house with a novel aud some old magazines. It was not an unpleasant day for Anne. Bodily she had enjoyed the restfulness and irresponsible laziness of it. Mentally, 6he had tried deliberately to keep at bay all worrying thoughts, hoping to preserve the spirit of optimism which so far had served to carry her through fateful hours. It was not until the evening, when she had returned to the sitting room and was awaiting the dinner for which Hopkins had already prepared her table, that she allowed her thoughts to dwell at all on the situation which she was placed, j When, some little time after she had finished dinner, Hopkins returned to the room she knew at once that something malevolently reacting on her had happened while she had been eating. In Hopkins’ poker face there was no definable change, but she noted that there was absent from his eyes the friendly, almost kindly light, which throughout the rest of the day had beamed on her from them. His movements were no longer deferential. On his entrance he had swung the door open with unusual abruptness, walked briskly and purposefully to the table, and in clearing it rattled the things noisily on to the tray. Instead of carrying it from the room himself he called sharply for Mrs. Barney and handed it to her. When she had disappeared with it he closed the door with a thrust of his foot, and to Anne, despite her already aroused apprehensions, the slam of it was like an alarm gun. With a deliberate lurching slouch he crossed the room till he faced Anne across the table. Then he caught a chair by its back, swung it between his legs and straddled it. Seated, and with his head thrust aggressively over the chair-back, he fixed his eyes on Anne in a steady, unblinking stare. She, her face pale, her heart palpitating, watched him, almost fascinated. “Your shifty brother lias don© the dirty on Doc,” he said gratingly. “It looks like it's up to you to pay Doc's score against him.” Anne, understanding the threat, was conscious of a curiously mixed sensation —satisfaction that Phil had, indeed, baffled Summers, and mortal fear of what in consequence might happen to her. Her mouth twitched as though she would have 6poken, but no words came, and she merely moistened her lips mechanically. “I’d not be helping to trick Doc, if I was you,” Hopkins continued, boring her with his eyes. “I don’t know a lot of what’s in the wind, but, if Doc wants you to help handle your brother I’d advise you not to refuse him; he’s got some ugly ways of making folk do what he wants. He’ll be along here to-night and, maybe, will deal with you then, but more likely he’ll give you, the night to think things over. If you’ll take a plain guy’s advice you’ll think the way he wants you to.” He rose from his chair at that, and, walking to the door, flung it open. “Your soft time is finished, young lady,” he said caustically, and pointed to the doorway * imperatively. “Your bedroom will be the best place to do your thinking in—you'll have nothing there W take your mind off what’s ahead of you if you don't think right.” Anne had just enough fortitude*left to rise steadily from her chair, to pass Hopkins and precede him up the stairs without breaking down, but when she had entered her bedroom and he had

closed and locked the door behind her she dropped on her knees at the bedside and with arms outflung on the bed burst into a passion of hysterical tears. When at la .t she rose drearily to her feet the room was completely dark, and in darkness, for no candles had been left for her, she undressed and got into bed. When eventually she slept her rest was broken by unhappy dreams. CHAPTER XXXIII. The Vindex two-seater, when Phil had collected his suitcase at Victoria, made short work of the journey to DorkingOn reaching the town .John Burdett drove direct to his house and pulled up in front of it. He swung out the. suitcase with him when he stepped from the car to the pavement. “I’ll leave this here,” he said, “then I’ll return the car, and we can walk back together.” “But what about a hotel ?” Phil asked. “You're going to dine with me, you know, and I don't like troubling you to put me up.” “You’ll have to settle all that with mother,” John Burdett said, smiling. “Outside of business matters she’s ray commanding officer, and her instructions are to bring you straight here. She'll have supper waiting for us, better than anything we’ll get at a hotel in Dorking at this time of day.” Airs. Burdett appeared at the door while he was speaking, and Phil, jumping from the car, was introduced to her. “Of course, you’ll stay here for the night, Mr. Garrison,” she insisted. “Though we’ve only met once, your sister and I are great friends, and it’s not likely I’m going to let her brother put up at a hotel when I’ve got a bed to offer him.” She took the suitcase from her son’s hand, and assuming Phil's acceptance of her hospitality, added. “Be sure and bring him straight back. John, supper will be on the table for you.” John Burdett grinned cheerfully at Phil. “It’s no use arguing about it, you see,” he said. “We’ve just got to obey orders.” Since they had left Jerruyn. Street there had been little conversation between the two. Actually, when he had got safely away from Victoria, and was assured that he had at last definitely escaped from both Lumville and Summers, he was remorsefully anxious on Anne's account, feeling himself a despicable coward for leaving her in such a plight and yet not knowing what other course to take. John Burdett, though he gave no sign of it in his manner, was | curious. From the first moment he sayt Phil he sensed mystery. He had seen Phil hurry into the building in Jermyn. Street, outside which he sat in the Vin-. dex car, and remembered him at once when scarcely a few minutes later be» introduced himself. He had noticed then Phil’s pale, purposeful face and his air of suppressed excitement, and, recalling Anne Garrison’s hurried journey from Dorking to London, and his feeling that there was something queer about this, he was busily engaged, while threading his way through the traffic, in trying to put two and two together. After their stoppage at Victoria there was little more than an exchange of occasional remarks between them until they had left London well behind. Then Phil,, by a word or two in praise of the car, broke the ice effectively. “It’s a ripping little car,” John Burdett had replied enthusiastically. “I’m buying it shortly, so this probably will be the last time I’ll have to borrow it.” From this point they drifted, through talk of cars and their qualities, to discussion of John Burdett’s business and its prospects, and before they had reached Dorking John Burdett, though he still smelled mystery, knew that Phil intended to invest a thousand pounds in: a partnership. The two young men were on the friend-* liest terms when they returned to the! house. John Burdett’s frank, sincere and’ friendly manner had completely won) Phil’s confidence, and the elder, predisposed to Phil because he was Anne’s brother, found in the other a pleasant and attractive personality that was entirely to his liking. He had not yet got a hint of what the mysterious something; was that he discerned in Phil’s manner, but it was plain to him that he was wrestling with some mental trouble and! that later he would be invited to deal! with it. While walking back after returning! the car they had discussed Phil’s partner-j ship suggestion, and John Burdett, rea-; lising its advantages, had practically accepted it. He had pointed out to Phil a plot of land in the main road which had a vacant shedlike building on it. “I’ve had my eye on that for some time, and have been wishing I had the money to get hold of it,” he said. “I wonder it hasn’t been snapped up already. It’s just the place for a garage and filling station. If we settle on a partnership I’ll hunt up the landlord first thing to-morrow and get an option on it. With space for a showroom and lots of garage accommodation we can take a couple of car agencies, and inside of six months we ought to be drawing in enough money to give us both comfortable incomes.” During supper they spoke of the matter again, and Mrs. Burdett, learning of Phil’s proposal, was warmly in favour of its acceptance. “It will be hard for both of you at the beginning,” she said, “but I know John doesn’t mind that, and I don’t suppose you do, Mr. Garrison. You’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you’re working for something worth while.” After the meal she left the two young men to themselves, and further debate of the subject ended in John Burdett’s decision that they should make the adventure together. “I’ll get a solicitor to put our agreement in shape to-morrow,” he said, “and when signed, stamped, and sealed we’ll have a jolly little dinner party to celebrate it. I suppose you could get your sister to come along; mother will be glad to see ber again.** Phil hesitated before replying. He had given John Burdett the card on which Anne had written her message to him, but since then, until this moment, neither of them had spoken of her. John Burdett had taken it for granted that Anne had told her brother of the circumstances of their acquaintance, and Phil, not enlightened on this point by either of them, had not the faintest idea that it was of such brief duration. Believing that Mrs. Burdett and her son were Anne’s tried and trusted friends, he found himself very much in a difficulty now that he had

to explain that there was a doubt as to Anne's ability to accept John Burdett’s invitation. But he had to make some explanations to John Burdett. And it was then that he decided to do what it had been in his mind to do since Airs. Burdett had left the room. He felt that he could trust John Burdett with the whole miserable story, and began without further delay. "I don't think you ought to decide on the agreement until you’ve heard something I have to tell you,” he said. "Perhaps you won’t want me as your partner then, but, anyhow, because I’ve decided that it's the straight thing to do, and also because I've got Anne into a rotten mess, and you and your mother are her friends, I'm going to tell you.” He paused, having difficulty in choosing words with which to begin his confession. John Burdett’s face was grave, but when he spoke his voice was sympathetic. “ I guessed there was something troubling you.” he said. "But there's no need to tell me anything unless you really want to. I don’t suppose anything you’ve done is so bad it can’t be mended. Anyhow, your sister's got confidence in you'or she wouldn’t have sent you to me. Her recommendation is good enough to fix up the partnership, so you needn’t worry about that.” “It's decent of you to say that,” Phil said, unsteadily, “but you’d better hear what T have to say before you decide anything. The first thing is that it's Anne who has put up the money for the partnership. I’ve fooled mine away, made an ass of myself generally, and ended up by getting in trouble at the bank I worked at.” “Do you mean you took some of the bank's money and had to clear out?” “I’ve squared up with the bank—that was Anne's money, too —and resigned, but things are still in a frightful mess Anne's in danger—you’d better let me tell you the whole story.” “Do,” said John Burdett, and could not quite keep an anxious note out ol his voice. Then he leaned back in his chair and li.-Vncd. (To be continued daily.)