PAID IN FULL

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21203, 28 August 1940, Page 11

PAID IN FULL

±jMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiimiiiiiNiiimiiiiiii£ 1 NEW SERIAL STORY |

by H. S. Sarbert

CHAPTER lll.—(Continued) “Not a lot to say about you, it seems,” he remarked. “Doesn’t look as if that young man is actually rushing back to your arms, does it, Viola?” “Granddad, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. I don’t expect it! I’ve no right to expect it!” “Humph! I’m glad to hear you say so,” her grandfather answered, “for then you won’t be likely to break your heart about someone who isn’t worth it, anyhow. He’s just got his nead turned. That’s what’s the matter with Harry Preston. David’s fault! Always pampered the boy too much. Spent too much on his education—trying to make a gentleman of him. And allowing him to choose his own calling, when he should have been told right from the beginning that his job in life was to carry on with the grocer’s shop. That would have been better for all concerned, and perhaps then he would have known Hallo!” The last word came indignantly, as old John Winn realised that he was talking to the air. Viola had felt that she simply could not listen. She had escaped to her room, to stand by the window staring out—and seeing everything through a mist of tears. The very vagueness of Harry’s father’s letter had been sufficient. He had had no good news for her! If Harry had said anything really nice about her, then his father would have made the most of it. She knew his kindly nature well enough for that. Harry had just forgotten her. Into Harry’s life had come this other girl. It was a fact that Viola realised she must face—that she must go on facing. Apology Demanded David Preston had taken a bedsitting room in a quiet road in the south-east part of London. There were some pretty bad slums not far distant, and one night David came upon a little scene that was to have far reaching consequences. He had been to see Harry, and he was returning home just before ten o’clock. His thoughts were giving him a great deal of trouble, for he was not satisfied with the way things were shaping.

Walking ahead of him, he had noticed a slight figure in the uniform of a nurse. He had not paid much attention at the time, but they were both passing down a street that was not exactly savoury. Even at this hour, children screamed and shouted in the gutter, slatternly women appeared in doorways, looking furtively around them. The subconscious thought passed through

David Preston’s mind that this was scarcely .the place for a woman; but then, she was a nurse, and would be entitled to special respect. And no doubt she knew what she was doing. That was how he dismissed the matter, until he noticed that the nurse had been stopped. A big, burly man had come out of one of the doorways, lurching as if under the influence of drink. He stopped the nurse just under one of the street lamps, so that their forms and faces were lit up. A rare contrast they made: The man, unshaven, villainous in appearance; the nurse, perhaps in the middle thirties, tall and slim, with clear-cut, aquiline features. “Hallo, Nurse Holden!” the man said hoarsely. David had stopped involuntarily, so that the words reached his ears. “You don’t know me, I suppose?” the man continued. The nurse’s reply came at once. “That is where you are wrong,” she replied. “I know you quite well. Your name is Packwood.” “That’s it—Bert Packwood. You knew my missus, too, didn’t you?” There came the slight flicker of a smile about Hilda Holden’s lips. This man looked evil and threatening, but she showed no fear, for she was used to this kind of thing. “Yes, I knew her quite well,” she said. “She’s been sent to the hospital today?” “That is so.” “And it was you who arranged it?” “I did—yes!” the nurse agreed. “Knowing that it was against my wishes, eh?” “I did not consider your wishes, Packwood,” Nurse Holden replied. “I shouldn’t have been doing my duty if I‘d done so. I knew that your wife was ill—terribly ill, and if she went on in the way she was going—with no care, no proper attention—she would die. You must have kn lwn it. _ It’s to your shame that you didn’t seem to care. I’m very glad I came in the nick of time —and that she is now going to have her chance, poor thing.” “And what about me, eh?” Not for a second was Parkwood kept waiting for a reply to that question. “Perhaps you will realise how wicked you are one day,” Nurse Holden told him. “Perhaps you will look round and try to get a job, instead of letting that poor little woman slave for you. I hope that something of the kind may happen, but it seems almost too much to expect. But I shan’t let your wife return to you until I'm quite sure she is fully restored to health. That’s all, Packwood, and now please allow me to pass ” i An oath came from the man’s lips. “Not if I know it!” he stated, i “You’ve got to answer to me first! I warned you. I did, to keep out of my affairs. I told you that I wouldn’t | be responsible for anything that happened if you interfered—and you thought you could just laugh at me. Well, woman or no woman, nurse or no nurse, I’ll show you that Bert Packwood ” He lifted ms hand threateningly—but the blow never fell. David Preston Packwood found

his upraised arm gripped- and, struggle as he would, he could not free himself. He was swung slowly round, and then forced to his knees. Though a big brute of a man, possessed of great strength, he was helpless in the grip of this stranger. “You will apologise,” David Preston said. “You will tell this lady you are sorry!” “You let me alone, will you! Let me get at—O-oh!” “Tell her you are sorry!” David ordered. “This is the last opportunity you’ll have of doing so!” Then Bert Packwood apologised. He mumbled that he was sorry, because it seemed to him that if he had not done so his arm would be broken, so steely and unrelenting was the grip upon it. Several other men had gathered around, but David paid no attention to them—and they did not interfere. “Is there anything else you want done, nurse?” David asked. “If you like, we’ll take him to the police—” Nurse Holden shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said. “I’m satisfied that Packwood has been punished enough, and I want to thank you very much indeed.” Nurse Holden held out her hand. “I think you are very brave and very strong,” she told him. “You rescued me from a very awkward predicament. Packwood is dangerous when he is in drink, and he owes me a grudge for having had his wife, poor soul, sent to the hospital. It’s curious that I haven’t seen you before, since I’m frequently about here. My brother runs the mission hall across the road.” “I’m here on a visit, nurse,” David told her. “I come from the country. Preston’s my name. David Preston!” “Preston!” Nurse Holden started. “That name has a familiar sound about it.” She laughed, a clear, musical laugh. “Oh, yes, I remember! I saw it on a circular asking me to invest in some new property. The name of the gentleman who wrote the letter was Preston —but it was Harry Preston.” David beamed. “There’s a connection, just the same, nurse,” he said. “You mean, you know Harry Preston?” “I ought to,” David replied. “You see, he’s my son!” (To be continued daily)