“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 4 January 1940, Page 10

“MAN FROM THE AIRPORT”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

LESLIE BERESFORD.

Author of “Mr Appleton Awakes,” “The Other Mr North,” etc.

CHAPTER XIV. It was because of that justified hatred that, arrived in town, Paula felt a reckless amusement in interviewing her bank manager, receiving from him in notes the amount Emil Luttner had demanded. It represented safety, in one respect. The safety of the Accrington millions for Geoffrey and herself. Once the amount had been handed over to Emil, and she had seen that entry of marriage destroyed, John Peters could whistle for the money he so confidently expected to take from her.

She was excited by the thought, and by her mental picture of him, so full of self-confidence, discovering himself beaten by her. What could he do, by way of revenge? With the stolen marriage certificate destroyed, he could prove nothing against her.

She felt her position so secure that she was in no immediate haste to leave town. While with the bank manager she had arranged for Geoffrey to have an account, and they both spent some time at a West-End man’s shop, fitting him up with a wardrobe. Afterwards they dined at the Grand Seigneur, her old haunt in town.

She had not visited it since the police raid on “The One-Eyed Moon,” and she was aware that her appearance created something of a sensation. She was also aware that Terry Carlton and Constance Willard were dining together. Instinctively she looked at the active left hand of Constance, and was amused. She had half-expected to catch th 6 glitter of diamonds on the engagement finger. But the hand was devoid of rings. Paula further realised that the two were not by any means in happy accord. The fact became even more pronounced while she and Geoffrey ate. Without looking his way, Paula knew that the eyes of Terry Carlton were watering her, and that with an expression of yearning which stimulated and pleased her. Paula, between courses, used mirror and lip-stick. Not that the last was really necessary, for the first proved that she was looking at tier very best tonight. As-a result, she showed .no surprise at all when suddenly Terry Carlton appeared at their table, apologising if he intruded. Paula satisfied herself with the faintest touch of revengeful satire. “Unlike you, Terry,” she saicj, “I’m not consoling myself over a shattered romance. Let me introduce my longlost brother, Geoffrey. This Geof, is Mr Carlton. He did once think I might be good enough to marry, but he changed his mind.” “That’s unkind of you, Paula,” the other intervened, on a sharp note of pain, but she laughed. “Isn’t the truth always a trifle unkind, Terry?” she shrugged. “If it was the truth, Paula, I wouldn’t mind,” he retorted stubbornly. “But—it isn’t. And —if it comes to that—l’m not consoling myself over any shattered romance. Constance and I are—what we’ve always been: just good friends ” Paula laughed, her lash-shuttered eyes meantime studying the angry face of Constance, left sitting at the distant table. “It depends on what you call friends, Terry,” Paula said bitingly; and was about to say more when he interrupted: “Listen, Paula!.What’s all this newspaper stuff about somebody stealing something from a church in Devonshire, and it all having something to do with your money?” “Exactly what you say, Terry,” she looked up at him, laughing. “All about something and somebody and something ” “For goodness sake, Paula, talk sense!” he lashed at her angrily. “After all, I’m always you friend. I want to know what it all means. Is there any chance of you losing your money?”

“Is there—blazes!” intervened here Geoffrey, so far silent, because he did not know Terry, and was not quite certain as to the precise lay of the land.

“It’s just a piece of silly bluff!” he added. “Fortunately, I turned up in time to quash a sort of blackmailing conspiracy against Paula. There’s absolutely nothing to it.” “Fine!" Terry regarded Geoffrey politely, but with no particular favour. He did not, candidly, like the look of him. As for Paula, he was still madly in love with her, and cursing himself for the snobbish weakness which had persuaded him into breaking off the engagement. “Listen, Paula!" he said. “I don’t know what it’s all about, of course. But if I can help in any way. will you remember that I’m always at hand?” Paula felt a twinge of remorse. The way in which Terry asked that question. so simply and so sincerely, literally bared his heart to her. She was aware that—in treating him with such casual diffidence—she had been throwing away pure gold. She became suddenly ashamed, as she never had been before. She laid white, clinging fingers over his clenched fist which rested on the table. “You're a perfect darling, Terry . . .” she said, throatily, and witii difficulty, shaking her head. “But—no. I don't vzant your help. I'm not in need of any help, if it comes to that. Go back to Constance, Terry. You and I have finished with each other, for good and all " "I wonder . . ." he pressed her hand with emotional fierceness.” Perhaps, Paula, we made a mistake ... I sup-j pose I can talk in front of your brother ” "Geoffrey doesn’t know anything

about you,” she said, and rose to her feet, laughing softly. “No, Terry,” she went on. “You go back to Constance. She’s your mark, ■and I’m not. Don’t let’s talk about this any more. Geoffrey and I are just on our way down to Beaconsfield.” “Paula, I’m worried about you ” “Really, Terry?” She eyed him with a cynical amusement, and shook her well-groomed head. ‘“lf I were you, I wouldn't bother. I can’t see why you should, anyhow.” “This newspaper stuff, Paula ” ‘All rubbish, Terry, as Geoffrey told you—” She was glad to get away. She realised now as she had never realised before, the strength of her loveliness, her personality. All for nothing, she had so attracted Terry that he was blind to the more real attractiveness of Constance, fuming and fretting at her distant table. Once, Paula had regarded Constance as a nasty little schemer. Now, Paula saw in her the supreme destiny which Terry, if he were only wise, should seize and make his own.

As they drove away from town, she enlightened Geoffrey a little as to Terry. He said, rather startling her: “Im not interested in him, Sis. But the girl he left at that table . . .What a gem! I could fall for her, properly. “Don’t be silly, Geof!” she interrupted him. “Constance is just mad on Terry ”

‘Maybe,” he said. “But, then —she hasn’t met me. Once that happens, you’ll see—” Paula saw only the open road along which the car sped—not as she had told Terry, to Beaconsfield, but to "The One-Eyed Moon!” She drove mechanically, with her mind still with Terry. After all, she decided, he was terribly fond of her. She knew that she had only to beckon him attractively, and he would leave Constance once again for her. And Terry was sound, safe, nice. No aces hidden up his sleeve, like ....

The car, much later, flicked round a curve of the road and purred through a tiny, disjointed hamlet, some farm labourers’ cottages, a petrol-filling station, an inn. Paula emerged from her wild imaginings. Just down the road, the white mass of “The One-Eyed Moon’ showed above a surrounding of elm and birch. The moonlight was almost startlingly vivid and clear. Paula swung the car in at the gates, regardless of speed. She was amused to notice that three other cars were parked near the main entrance, that some people made little chattering groups on the terrace. Now that the police raid was becoming forgotten, the old crowd was beginning gradually to troup back. Just like Terry showed signs of doing. How like the world, after all.

Emil Luttner emerged suddenly from his office, saw Paula and her brother, came towards them. He could not hide the avaricious eagerness in his eyes, or in his voice.

“You have arranged the cash?” His urgent undertones reached her ears. Somehow, they angered her. She was swept by a feeling of loathing for him, and even a little contempt for herself, as if she were contaminated by him. “What’s all the hurry, Emil?” she flashed back at him, made up her mind to keep him anxious. She said: “As my bank manager pointed out to me today, such a large sum as twenty thousand pounds needs to be treated with respect. You can’t expect to withdraw an amount of that size all in five minutes, as if you sat down in a dentist’s chair to have a tooth out

“Meaning—you weren’t yet able to get it?” Luttner fretted. “Supposing I couldn’t?” Paula amused herself with him. and now determined to keep him waiting. “It’s a pity,” the other fumed, unconsciously nibbling at his finger nails in his disappointment. “I made my arrangements, you see, to pay a short visit to Germany, and was leaving this morning. But now, if you have not that money ” “You’ll have to wait —quite!” Paula laughed. “Well, it can’t be helped, can it? Meantime, Geof and I will put up here for the night. And—before we go to bed —I guess a drink seems called for.” She moved away, with her cool and languid grace, towards one of the little groups, members of which she recognised. They greeted her in their slangy Mayfair way, insisting that she join their party. She agreed, introducing Geoffrey to them. It seemed that the daily papers, following the lead of the overnight evening's, had mentioned the mysterious happening at the church, and referred to the equally mysterious threat to the Accrington estate. Paula, laughing, belittled the whole affair in reply to their questionings, said she knew nothing about any other claimant, and refused to believe there was anything behind the story. She was not in the least perturbed when one of the party, a man she had not met before, revealed himself as a social correspondent, and asked if he might be allowed to telephone her statement to his paper. “Oh, why shouldn't you?” Paula shrugged, adding defiantly: “I shall be only too glad if the public is made to realise that the whole story is too silly for words. I've absolutely nothing to hide, and the sooner everyone knows it, the better.” Al! the same, when she thought of John Peters, this defiance of hers — while it satisfied her wounded pride—left her with an inward uneasiness. The abrupt manner in which he had left the Germans private office here, she had since felt with more and more conviction, did not mean that he look-

ed on himself as beaten, with withdrawing his claim. He was not, Paula realised, the sort of man to acknowledge defeat, or suffer it, if he could stave it off. On the other hand, as Emil Luttner apparently held the only vital proof, and that would be destroyed for ever now with a few hours, Paula could not see how John Peters would be left with any power to harm her brother and her. Even though he knew that the little solicitor’s clerk had stolen the marriage-entry, he was not in a position to prove it, unless indeed he traced that marriage-entry to his or Luttner’s possession before it could be destroyed. That, at this moment, was Paula's only fear, and one at which she was inclined to laugh. His final threat, that the police would be here soon enough, had not so far matured. He had indeed given Luttner twenty-four hours of grace. A foolish thing to have done, and Paula still remained puzzled as to why he had taken that line. Had he still another ace hidden up his sleeve? The later the hour, the less Paula liked that seemingly foolish reticence on the part of John Peters. It had been backed by such self-assurance, so insolent an air of certainty, that she was really afraid. Not so much for herself, either, as for Geoffrey, who — when they went to their rooms at an early morning hour—was inclined to be fretful over her deliberate delay in settling with Emil Luttner. "What was the use of pretending you hadn't got the money, Paula?” Geoffrey asked petulantly. “Just silly and dangerous. I call it. We want that bit of paper destroyed, don’t we? It could have been done by now " “So it could,” she agreed. “But I preferred to keep Emil waiting. I’ve danced to his tune long enough. It's time ho danced to mine—or ours—as we’re paying the piper.” “And paying a lot too much, to my mind." he complained, eyeing the thick wad of high-figured Bank of England notes which Paula, taking from her handbag, held with a thoughtful air. (To be Continued.)