“The Innocent Accomplice”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 75, Issue 42, 19 February 1932, Page 10

“The Innocent Accomplice”

A NEW SERIAL STORY:

—.By

ETHEL F. HEDDLE.

CHAPTER XVll.—(Continued.) But I don't know that everyone else does. There's a pal of yours al the Rest. She's taking a holiday wrfft her aunt and uncle. She was in England’s with you. We got talking • of the burglary there. I've seen quite I a lot of her, in my role of guest, at the inn. She’s not averse to a little 1 flirtation. And I got her on the burgj lary at England’s. She told me she always thought a girl—you, in fact—had something to do with it. Saw you 1 coming in late that night—looking j scared. Very late And you • weren’t the kind of girl to have been dancing,’ she said. She had her ■ knife in you, all right.” j “Drop it now, Chips,” Ted put in I then. Perhaps the deliberate cruel | mockery of the other’s tone, and the t torment of Peggy’s look, touched a j chord, even in him. “Let her alone. ! Don't scare her. She didn’t peach then, and she won’t now. Come now, Peggy, get along and let us finish this job.” “What are you going to da?” Peggy oried. She went up and stood before them. “Oh, Ted, don’t! Don’t! Don’t you see I can’t bear it? It is as if I opened the door to you. I can’t bear it. They are kind people, I so good to me!” “Get out of here, and stop that!” I Chips said, his tone changing to one lof sudden ferocity. “We will have the maids coming in—anyone coming ' in. You dry up that rot and get away. You haven’t anything to do with this, and you will know nothing, unless you poke your nose in. Get rid of her, Ted!’’ “Peggy, go away!” He thrust her | hand down from his arm. He would I not meet her eyes. “And you mind what you are about,” Chips said, low. “Or you’ll have a detective after you. They’ll prove you were In the shop, perhaps That girl suspects, and she hates you. for her own reasons. Open I th® door for her, Ted!” ; Scarcely knowing what she did. Peggy went to the door and walked out. She could hear the two men resume their low, sibilant talk. A soft laugh came from Chips. He could laugh. Laugh and jest. She had seen him glance at the safe. Had they done something to it? Or the clasp of the window? If she as much as warned the Admiral all would be discovered. And Ted—Ted might be sent to prison and disgraced! How could she send him there? What could she do? Her heart said: Nothing! Nothing! Ted must slip over the precipice, and she could not help him. CHAPTER XVIII. Ada Is Puzzled. "t want you to go down to the Angler’s Rest, Peggy,” Mrs Trevor said next day, when she was chang!mg her dress for dinner. “And give Mrs Peter Hobbs a message from me. She's rather an old dear, and she promised me the recipe for the most wonderful cowslip wine! I want to give it to Sally and Mrs Silas P., and get the cook here to try it. Mrs Silas P. is wild to have It. Bring it back with you, Peggy.” Peggy promised she would. But she felt a little qualm about this message. She heard Ada was at the inn —Ada who hated her! Still, it could do no harm, surely, | for Ada to know she was at the Manor as maid—as long as she did not see Ted! Her heart began to beat hard again. Whatever he and Chips meant to do—they must do soon—or Mrs Silas P. would be away! Peggy fancied it would be on the night of the ball. The house would be in an upset. then, and—if they succeeded, and Ted was not suspected—he would go away soon I Oh, if he would go away and this load could be lifted from her heart! She walked down the country road in the soft twilight, the stars beginning to prick the grey flecks of shining gold, and then she saw Michael suddenly, walking home, a boy holding a basket of trout, and his rods, with him. They came face to face, and I Michael lifted his hat. She realised ‘ with a sickening throb of pain, that | something was gone from his look—j some gladness—all the eager weli come—the joy. He no longer joyed to see her ! • In a moment he had passed on! He—had he heard anything? Did jhe know anything? Realise the rei sponsibility of loving Peggy, the sister i of a thief? Could he know anyhing? Her mind was in a whirl of doubt j and fear as she reached the inn, and • in the dark little hall came Ada, who I gave a little shriek of recognition I when she saw her. ’ Why, Peggy! Peggy Alison!” she ! cried. “If it isn’t you! Come to pay ime a visit? Or is it my aunt?” Peggy explained her message, and Ada nodded, and led her through the bar. all pewter and oJd oak settles, and a raftered roof, to the inner room, where roses peeped in through the lattice panes. Ada drew up a chair and looked at her deliberately. “She's out, Peggy,” she said. “But I’ll tell her about the recipe. Horrid stuff. I think! Give me a dry Martini! How are you getting on. Peggy? I heard what you were doing.” Her eyes sparkled a little maliciously. Peggy, with all her “airs,” in service! She could scarcely believe it. when told by the one girl in England’s. with whom Peggy corresponded. “I got sick of England’s,” sh® announced. “But I don’t think I could descend to be a servant. Not so bad. of course, with a big staff, and a hall, and all that. I got sick of the shading and McVicar’s tant--1 rums! I got into a mess about some | gloves he said I’d lost. But, 1 say • Peggy —do you know who is here?” For a moment Peggy’s heart leaped. Dh, If Ada saw Ted! She must warn Ted! Ada had always seemed to hate them both. If she saw him—n his footman’s dress! Peggy s heart ?eemed to sicken within her. “Who?” she got out. “I musn’t stay. Ada. I have sewing to do.” “Oh, never mind the sewing! Aunt - will be in. She’s only gone gossiping at the farm. I want to tell you! For he admired you. Peggy, old girl—- ’ or so it was said. Sat upon Mr Harold J about you—when he found Harold had 1 given you the sack! So England’s all ■ said. Old England, of course, always up Michael.”

“But—who is it?" Peggy got out. The shadow of the leaves was on her lace. She had sat back in the high, carved old chair. She must know if Ada meant Ted “Michael England himself!” Ada cried triumphantly. “Fishing! He’s a swell fisher! He’s got a queer little place, it seems, called the Maze. A man here —another fisher —a town fellow—says it’s the queerest place Oh, there is Mr Learoyd!” She coloured and ran to the little fly-blown mirror over the mantelpiece. She forgot about Michael. Mr Learoya was “no end of a sport.” she told her aunt, and he had asked her to go to a picnic with him and some friends. She put her curls in order and dusted a little powder on her face. Peggy rose. “I must go. Ada,” she said, in her little cold voice. "Will you tell your aunt about the recipe? Ask her to bring or send it up?” She broke off then. Chips, in very different attire, in very good, new clothes of the latest cut, had opened the door, and not seing Peggy, had nodded coolly to Ada. “Coming for a bit of a walk, Miss Prowse. Its a jolly ijight. Like a cocktail first? Say the word —and the brand.” “Oh, thank you, I would.” Ada’s voice took on its most affected languor. “But I say, Mr Learoyd, this is a girl friend. Peggy, may 1 introduce Mr Learoyd ? Miss Alison Mr Learoyd. He is down for the fishing. Quite a dab, aren’t you, Mr Learoyd?” ‘TH let you say so, Miss Prowse. I'll let you say anything," Chips said gallantly. He nodded coolly to Peggy. “Do you live here, Miss Alison? Nice little sleepy hollow, isn’t it? I'd get mouldy If I lived here long." Peggy got to the door. She murmured, “Yes, she lived here," but she negatived Ada’s suggestion that she should stay and have a cocktail. It made her cold to see Chips there, in his new dress, the glazier’s disguise discarded. So she nodded to Ada and got out of the inn, where a few villagers were now gathered round the bagatelle board, and Peter Hobbs was busy at the bar. “Come and sit down for a bit,” Ada said hospitably to Learoyd, “and don’t you let Uncle Peter see me having a cocktail! He’s a Methodist, and no end crochety." She gave him a coquettish glance. She did not particularly like him. He had a way of mocking her politely, she felt, and she did not quite understand him—but he was a man, and seemed to find her useful to pass the time with. “Isn’t that girl pretty?” she demanded, as he gave her a cigarette “Some people rave about her! But shi got the sack at England’s, and I. always think she’s deep! She’s the one I told you of before.” “Pretty enough,” Chips said. He knew better than to praise Peggy. “Good eyes —not much style. Sort of frightened little rabbit look!” Ada laughed as if at a good joke “Oh, go on!” she said. “I’m not so sure of the rabbit business! I’m pretty sure she’s deep! She always keeps me at arm’s length, because 1 think she’s afraid of me.” “Why is she afraid of you?" Learoyd asked. He looked at her with light cold eyes, curiously repellentTo some people. “Jealous a bit? Girls are ell jealous little cats." “Oh, no. I mean, she never had any cause to be jealous,” Ada said. “Though she did try to take an admirer from me.” Her eyes glittered as she remembered. “But I happened to see her come in very late, the night of the burglary at England’s! I told you I suspected a girl.” “Oh, yes, I remember. Never caught the thieves, did they?” He got the cocktails, and now handed Ada hers. She sipped it delicately, her eyes brightening. “No, they were never caught! But about her. She didn’t meet me for the Movies that night, and I wondered, and watched a bit. And I saw her come in—looking scared and white, at two in the morning. And she said she’d been ‘detained’ I Wouldn’t explain, and her mother didn’t know, for I asked her! A bit fishy! I always think she was in it. In the burglary! For all her airs!” "She doesn't look like a crook," Learoyd said, as if considering. “Not the style, nor the dress! She isn't a bit smart. She' looks more the Innocent, silly kind! Dull as ditch water they always are! Have another?” “Oh, no. I couldn’t!” Ada gave a little shriek. “Uncle would have a fit!” "Well, come out for a bit of a walk, then,” Learoyd suggested. "We’ll go down by the river, and home by the Manor. I'd like a peep at the park there Know it at all—the paths round the house?” “Oh, yes,” Ada said. "I used to play there as a child. The old man is a fearful Turk, and he doesn’t like people going in, now.” They went down by the river, and then home by the Manor. Ada talked and chattered. Learoyd was a little silent. He seemed to be thinking and considering, when they went through the gate and before the house. He stood a long time before the facade of the house, looking up. Ada thought he was counting the windows. He said he was “dead nuts on olu houses.” They would just take a look at the park. She grew a little tired at last, and said they’d better be going. The green silence of the grass, the great trees swinging lightly in the cool, sweet wind, the fragrance of bracken and moss, the call of sleepy birds, meat nothing to Ada. She only wished Learoyd had been more of a ccming-on disposition and flirted a little! He seemed to be thinking all the time —and planning! Absorbed, as it he measured the distance .from the trees to the house "1 say. you are in a brown study, aren’t you?" she said, almost huffily’ at last. “And I must be getting back’ It’s a trust bouse, and he sets all the silly old men out of the bar at ten! Sc I must be in. You aren't a surveyor, are you?" .(To be continued./