"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 8 October 1938, Page 12

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER Vlll—(Continued). “I’ll find a seat on the balcony,” offered Smith, and he led her out in the cool night air. “It’s really not weather for dancing, anyhow.” “Now,” she said, after they had found a seat, “what did father and Mr Walford -.have to talk about that made you forget about my dance? It was surely something very engrossing.” “Am I quite forgiven?” asked Smith smiling. “If your explanation is satisfactory.” “Well,” he began, “as a matter of fact, your father was inviting me down to your place in the country and I’ve been think ing up all sorts of excuses for refusing.” “Why?” she asked.’ He repeated the story of the delayed luggage, and told her of her father’s plan to help him out. This time he didn’t have to think so quickly and there was no faltering, which was probably just as well, as Marie hadn’t been able to pick the weaknesses out at once. “And you’re coming?” she asked, evidently pleased. “Yes, I’ve promised. It was awfully decent of your father. He really put himself out to help me.” “You’ll like Cranford Hall; it’s a beautiful old place. It’ll be nice to have someone else to talk to besides Cyril and Betty. Cyril’s my brother, and, anyhow, he spends most of his time with Betty. Do you play golf?” “Well, a bit,” admitted Smith. “That means a lot. You’ll play with me and we’ll challenge Cyril and Betty. Walter’s such a duffer at golf and I never win with him.” “Walter?” inquired Smith. “Is that the —er—gentleman I was introduced to as Mr Lakin?” “That’s him. You don’t like him?” “Well, I really don’t know him well enough to form an opinion.” “No,” she replied, smilingly, “but I can see you don’t. Not many people like Walter, but I think it’s just his manner. When you know him better you’ll find he has quite a good many likeable points.” She laughed. “He didn’t exactly fall on your neck when you were introduced, did he?” Smith smiled. Walter had certainly not given him the impression that he was delighted to meet him, but he had put this down to natural surliness and had though very little more about

“You see,” continued Marie, by way of explanation, “he’s my fiancee, and, he was probably a little bit jealous.” “You—your fiancee?” stammered Smith, rather taken aback by the suddenness of the announcement. “Yes.” Smith was silent for a moment or two. He had never even considered Lie possibility of her being engaged, and the realisation came as something of a shock. The gloves she wore prevented him seeing her ring. “I didn’t notice you were engaged,” he said at last. She glanced at Smith, conscious of a disappointment in his tone, and smiled. Would he have accepted the invitation to Cranford Hall if he had known that sooner, she wondered. “I’ve known Walter for years,” she went on, “and I understand him better than most people. But tell me something about yourself. Did your friend come?” “No,” answered Smith, quickly. “I can’t understand it. Must have been detained somehow.” To his relief, there came an interruption at this moment. A step behind them made them both turn round. It was Lakin, himself, and, at the sight of Smith, he scowled, making no attempt to disguise his displeasure. “Your father is looking for you, Marie,” he said, sharply. “He is ready to go home.” He ignored Smith, entirely anc Marie, noticing this, flushed. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she replied, coldly. “It’s nearly three o’clock. Everyone’s going home,” and Lakin turned abrupty and left them. Marie looked at Smith, apologetically. “Sorry,’’she said, rising, “Walter’s evidently not feeling quite himself tonight.” Walter was, though. He was feeling very much himself, and very much annoyed. The last few days had shown him just what a thin partition separated him from a prison cell, and had disturbed him considerably. Smith had increased his apprehensions, Mira’s report of her talk with him in no way' improving matters. Smith and Marie made their way tc the cloak room, where they found Emmerson waiting for them. “I was having a rather interesting talk with Mr Smith,” said Marie, as she came up. “You will have plenty of opportunities for talking, my dear,” replied Emmerson. “Mr Smith’s coming down with us for a while. Now, run off and gee your things.” When Marie had gone, he turned to Smith. “I’ve left those things with the cloak room attendant for you. I didn’t encumber you with too much, but I think you’ll find all you want there. Now, you won’t disappoint me?” “No. Mr Emmerson, I won't do that. Mr Walford is picking me up. Thanks very much for helping me out.” Marie came up at this moment with Lakin. “I’ve just issued that challenge to Betty,” she said to Smith. “I told her you were a master at golf, so you have something to live up to.” Smith smiled, and walked with Emmerson to the waiting car, Marie and Lakin bringing up the rear. “Isn’t Mira coming?” asked Marie, looking around for Miss Lakin. “She’s coming along later,” answered Lakin. “By the way, Marie, did I hear aright? Is that fellow coming to Cranford Hall?” “Fellow?” said Marie. “Why fellow?” “Oh, well, Mr Smith.” "Yes, father invited him down.” 'Good gracious! And you don’t even know who he is?” Marie looked at him coldly. Lakin had been in a churlish mood all night, and she hadn’t forgiven him for his treatment of Smith. “Of course,” she replied, stiffly, “if you object to father’s guests, you can best express your displeasure by stay-| ing away.” "But you don’t know the fellow,”

persisted Lakin. “Oh, yes we do,” smiled Marie, maliciously. “Why, everyone knows him. Surely you must have heard of him?” Lakin looked at her in surprise. ’This is what he had been trying to find cut all night. “Who is he?” he asked. “John Smith!” He glared at her, completely failing to see anything humorous. He was surly and silent for the rest of the evening, a fact for which Marie was thankful, as she had a matter of her own which required thinking out. Smith looked after their departing car for some minutes, in deep thought. He was in a curious position, and he would have to move with the utmost care. There were innumerable difficulties in the way, but he was rather, looking forward to the adventure, trusting to his initiative to overcome the obstacles which he was sure to meet. The main thing was to keep conversation away from his people. Walford had very nearly caught him out once already, and he would have to be particularly on his guard next time. Thus musing, he turned back into the hall once more. He wandered aimlessly along, and stood for a rpoment to look out of a window. Gradually he became aware of a gesticulating figure outside, and came to himself with a start. It was Shep. He had walked to the window where Shep was hiding without having been conscious of it. Poor Shep! He had forgotten all about him. Me made a sign to his unfortunate companion and went in search of some eatables. It was getting late; people were beginning to go home, and the buffet was almost cleared out. He managed, however, after some effort, to secure two platesful of cakes and sandwiches, which, by devious ways, he wangled to the window. Shep, ever watchful, pounced on them immediately. “Now,” said Smith, “if you save some of that lot we can have breakfast in the morning. I’ll get my coat and be with out in a few minutes.” Before leaving, Smith thought he would hunt up Mr Walford and make sure of the arrangements for the morrow. It would be very unfortunate if there was any misunderstanding with regard to the time of meeting, so on this point he would make certain. He found Walford rounding up his party preparatory to leaving. (To be Continued.)