Evening Star Newspaper, October 25, 1931, Page 85

ith Romantic Complications — By Stephen MO]‘fihOUS@ /4 ;4 ¢ /a—m’i o HaM < / stewards swarmed down upon him, Bill hadn’t a chance. the door before he could reply. Ferrand, the ship’s doctor, let himself in quietly. He took off his eyeglasses, and squinted. “What you do here, Monsieur? What you do in Monsieur Chadd’s bed, in hees very pajamas, ‘THE DOLE provision of food and shelter for the 6,000,000 or 7,000,000 unemployed would be a job involv- ing expenditures of almost war debt propor- tions, he was quick to point out some of the errors in that suggestion. N the first place, he said that not all of the unemployed millions are entirely without means of subsistence. Some have savings, even though this is the third Winter of the depres- sion. Some have homes in which they can live and garden plots in which they may raise some food. Many others are members of families in which some other member still has a job. It is only fair to recall, however, that others interpret these statistics differently. During the relief debates in Congress last Winter it was argued frequently that 5,000,000 unemployed mean about 20,000,000 without normal means of support. That was on the assumption that there is about one wage earner to every four persons in the United States. Pending the collection and analysis of the information he is seeking, Mr. Gifford refuses to indulge in prophecies as to conditions during the coming Winter., He feels he has not been on the new job long enough for that. That the Federal authorities are impressed with the gravity of the situation, however, may be gleaned from a recent declaration by Pred C. Croxton, Mr. Gifford’s first assistant, who was associated with the 1930 Unemployment Commission, now absorbed by the Gifford organization. According to Mr. Croxton, there is a realiza- tion “that, whatever the trend of business during the balance of the year, the demand for reliefl will be unusually heavy next Fall and Winter.” ace Is Home E. Scotton e all men all earth to love, but, since each one place should prove beloved esickness—and the geographical loca- ce whatcver, Men lose their hearts to pcake Bay, to the land where Spanish -stretching praivie country and to the n who loves a tumbled section of sand- es of great forests, where the Winter hearts of wmen are®small, one place and with hees nurse? Will you explain that? And where is Monsieur Chadd with hees fever?” “I wish I knew, Doctor,” said Bill. “He's got . my business and passport and I intend to have him guillotined or hanged for it, when I catch him.” Dr. Ferrand reached wildly for the doorknob. “Tiens! I go to the capitaine. It is my rep- utation at stake.” He squeezed through the doorway, but thrust his head in again with a warning: “But if ®t is & plot by you, Monsieur ., , * He made a motion as if he had a scalpel in his fat fingers. ‘Then he came back. into the room altogether. “And as for yqu, young womans, it is a beeg finish. I report this. You will be a nurse again not in such a quick hurry, I think.” The door banged. Bill got into a dressing gown and some slippers and consider pillar of salt which had once been Shannon Wister. “Next time, young womans,” he mimicked, “maybe you will listen to reason.” She put her hands in front of her pale little face and swayed a little. “What shall I do? Oh, how could you? How could you let me make such a mistake? Don't you see you have destroyed my livelihood?” “To say nothing of what you've done to mine,” said Bill. “If I'm not at Nice with those contracts signed in three days, I'm out. Not that I care about that. I can't explain that, but it means more than losing livelihood or flancee or . . .” “What do I care how many fiancees you lose?” said Shannon. “You got me into this and you've got to get me out.” It was one of those ideal arguments which bave infinite possibilities for endurance. It en- dured for nearly two days, at any rate, and out- lasted the passage of many miles of water and no few miles of the highroads of Southern France. It was healthily in progress as Shannon sat beside Bill in the front seat of 2 big car which he was pushing over the road from Perpignan to Beziers at a speed which was an outrage to the age and old-fashioned dignity of the only car available for hire at Port Vendres, morth of Barcelona and just north of the Spanish border, where they had landed. Their hopes were based upon a jocular, un- signed radiogram which had just arrived on the liner for Mr. Holderness the morning after Mr. Chadd’s escape. “Hope you enjoy cruise. Thoroughly enjoy- ing your business and have signed splendid agent at Barcelona. Shall sign Chabat Freres at Avignon.” “Chabat!” The name had meant enough to Bill to almost topple him over the deck rail. “But that's the wrong list! Chabat Freres are our competitors and are underlined on the list I was supposed to avoid. If that business genius, Irving K. Chadd, ever gets to Avignon and sees him, my old man's pet scheme is a washout.” At Port Vendres Bill had received another radio, forwarded from the liner and unques- tionably from the errant Chadd. “Perfectly willing to handle your business, but cannot be responsible for girl.” “Girl? What girl?” Bill was mystified. “You're the only girl in this mess and, heaven knows, one is enough. What does he mean?” “Perhaps he means your precious fiancee. She may have motored part way from Nice w0 meet the conquering hero.” LL along the coast road, skirling the great lagoons by way of Florensac and Meze, rising again into dune foothills, they dashed through ornr)ge groves, the dead green of olive trees against the warm blue of the sea, the land of flowers and every beauty but the beauty of grass. At Meze and again at Montagnac they picked up information of a fleet gray car. Only an hour ahead of them. They would catch him at Montpelier. “And none too soon,” said Bill. “He'd be at Avignon by tomorrow evening . . and that is where he intends to present the advantages of our plan before the sharp eyes of Chabat Freres.” “And none too soon for me either.” Bill glanced at her, his first thought that the past 48 hours might have been something of a strain for a girl, a none-too-husky girl at that. Her eyes in fatigue seemed quite as big and quite as blue, but her small felt hat was awry and her cheek was smudged and there was a woe-begone little pull at the corner of her mouth; she looked like a child ready to fall asleep on one's’ shoulder. But he was going to be ruthless. All success- ful men were a little ruthless and maybe that was why he had never been successful. Well, he was now reformed. “You've been a fairly good sport . . . so far,” he said. There now, that was pretty ruthless! What he'd meant to say was: “You insisted upon tagging along and it's your own darn fault.” Night came upon them with surprising sud- denness about 5 kilometers outside of the town. It took Bill the best part of an hour to get the headlights working well enough to proceed, and they gained the faint illumination and the cobbles of Montpellier about 7 o’clock. At the end of the main street they found the post inn under the name of Hotel de 1'Univers. “You jump out, Shannon, make your own ar- rangements, and wash your face. I'm going around to the garage people to see if Mr. Chadd has interviewed them yet. I ought to be back for dinner by 7:30.” “Aye, aye, sir,” said Shannon with a mock salute. “Shall I order dinner, sir? And how’ do you prefer your veal, Mr. Holderness?” _ Bill was a little late getting back, a longer walk from the garage than he had thought. But he found Shannon with the smudge still on her cheek and almost in the exact spot where he had left her. Here eyes were delft-blue saucers. “He’s here, Bill. I've seen him. He doesn't Jook so much like you, but I know it was he.” “Yes, I know,” said Bill. “He’d already been to the garage people. They had several good cars for hire and he signed them to a con- tract.” “But I actually saw him. Just as I was get- ting my hat off. Through the shutters of my room. I literally fell down the stairs. I shouted, ‘Mr. Chadd . . . Mr. Chadd!" He gave one wild glance at me and then the gray car shot forward and around the corner up there. Do I look like a trained nurse, Bill? Essentially, I mean? And, Bill, do you know what? He has & girl with him.!” After two hours of fruitless search and at the last forlorn gasoline pump on the road out to Nimes and Avignon, they learned that a man driving a gray car had inquired, only a few minutes ago, if he could reach Avignon com- fortably before midnight. ‘That last ride through the darkened country- side held a thrill of its own, and neither Bill nor Shannon said very much. They plunged ahead into the white spread of the headlights. There was no moon, but there were many stars. Finally, after nearly two hours of it and well beyond Nimes, a long hill rose ahead of them, black as the night itself. Near the top of it hung a tiny red star, the red spot of a tail light, and for the next half hour it was their star @f hope. Then they lost it. “We'll have to go faster, Bill. Is this as fast as it will go?” “Maybe you'd like to get out and push,” said Bill. His foot held the throttle to the floor, and the old car, judging from the clamor, was break- ing its leaky but valiant heart. Bill was more puzzled by the disappearance of the fleeing gray car than she was. “Unless they have spotted us following and taken td cover we should be able to see them from here.” They had reached a high point of ground, beyond Remoulins, from which they could see_ all the way to the great bend of the Rhone and the lights of Avignon low on the night horizon. Descending, he slackened speed, notic- ing every farm dwelling which they passed near the road, a cross-roads, a dark lane. The road bent around a thickly-growing clump of trees and beyond was a little cafe, its windows still alight. Bill stopped the car, got out and went to peer through the windows. He seemed satisfied when he returned. “I want to leave you here for a few minutes, Shannon. I believe we must have passed the beggar and I want to drive back about half a mile and have a look at that lane. It's just the sort of place. . . . What's the matter? ‘What are you afraid of?” She had jumped down beside him, clinging to his coat sleeve. “Afraid for you, Bill. You don’t know how crazy he is. Maybe he has a pistol!” “Stop that,” said Bill. “If I weren't an engaged man, getting nearer and nearer to the arms of his betrothed, I'd make you stop it.” He caught her hands on his coat lapels. He picked her up and kissed all the places he could find to kiss on such a little face. “Now go on, Shannon. I haven't any time to waste on you.” HE waited at the door of the cafe while Bill turned the car about and started down the road. Then she went in. None of the little, dark wood tables was empty, but there was a place at one next to the window. A gir] was sitting there. Very much to Shan- Avery non’s surprise, she seemed American. She was ash blonde and pretty. “May I sit @aown here? aren't you? How strange!” “Do sit down,” said the girl. “I'm just wait- ing here for a friend—my fiance, in fact. We're drivirg cn to Avignon.” “That’s funny,” said Shannon. “I'm waiting for my fiance, too. At least I hope he is after . . He is if he's a gentleman. We're driving to Avignon, too.” While her coffee was being served she had a chance to examine her companion and her next question carried an edge of suspicion. “Where is your flance now?” “As a matter of fact,” said the blonde girl eagerly, “he left me here and took the car back to-a little lane we passed. Somebody is follow- ing us. I'm supposed to watch until they have gone by. It's thrilling.” Shannon laughed. “It's not only thrilling, it’s miraculous. Is your fiance's name Holdel- ness by any wild chance?” “It most certainly is not. After the way he treated me? I came all the way from Nice to Avignon to meet him and, when he tele- graphed for me to come on to Montpelier, I went. He wasn't even there. Some one much nicer was there, however. My filance’s name W “Chadd!” completed Shannon. “And he is not nicer and he i8 a lunatic and a thief Any consequence of this outburst was held in abeyance by a crashing scund which brought both the girls and several of the men in the room to their feet; a sort of dull, omifous crash which reverberated through the still night air, “I knew it!” Shannon's voice was thin and high with terror. “They've killed themselves. ©Oh, Bill, Bill!” “What do you mean?” Arlene Seabury joined the rush through the door. Shannon was already outside, running with the men along a short-cut path which led behind the clump of trees in the direction of the lane. : A great flare of white flame, like a beacon, guided them over a fence, across a plowed field, until, after perhaps 10 minutes or more, they arrived on the lane road. The fast-disappear- ing remains of two cars lay in a flaming mass in the ditch. Bill had driven the old car into the lane road at fair speed, as good speed as he esuld make running without kights. Mr. Chadd was coming out of the lame road.at an even better speed, considering the Rhandicap of driving in the dark. Neither of them wanted to be seen, and they weren't. The two cars almost leaped at each other and met head on with a erash like the explosion of a bomb. * Its very violence wes salvation. Everything flew out. Bill flew out. After a minute er so You're American, _ he found that he was lying in the middle of a road. He didn’t know what road nor how he got there, nor very much abqut anything, but he felt very_well content with himself. Somebody was trying to help him to his feet and he resented it. “I don’t need any help,” he said. “Who are you?” The man looked at him vaguely. “I don't know who I am. I feel as if I'd just dived on another rock.” Bill stood up shakily. “I know you. You're Chadd, and there was something I was sup- posed to do to you. You ran off with . . .. Oh, I've got it now.” - With \almost slow-motion deliberation he drew back and hit Mr. Chadd on the chin. Mr. Chadd sat down in the road, his expression more vague than ever. Then Mr.. Chadd got up, and as he got up he brought his fist up. HILE Bill was sitting in the road, he thought the thing over. He gradually gained his feet again. “That didn’t seem to get us anywhere, did it? But I know a place where we can get & drigk.” They started down toward the main road, arm in arm, weaving and unsteady, as if they already had had many drinks. ill tripped over something and stopped to swear at it properly. “You might bring that,” said Mr. Chadd. “It's your bag, anyway, and I think #% full of contracts. There may be a few dollars of mine in it, too. I seem to have forgotten some- thing important, don't you?® Everybody stared at them whan they entered the little cafe, but they didn"t care. They didn’t even notice. They found as empty table for two near the window and ordered a couple of cognacs. “I must have known you an awful long time, Bill,” said Mr. Chadd. “Bill is your name, Jn’t it? Mine’s Irving.” “Yes, I know,” said Bill. His eyes were fastened on the doorway where the pallid, tear-streaked faces of two girls who had just entered met his gaze. There was some- thing about those faces which startled him. In the first place, they were pretty faces, which always had a certain effect upon Bill. But there was something else. “I've just remembered what i was that we (Copyright, 1931.) Shortleaf Pine ldeal shortleaf pine, while not so fast-gréf¥ing as some of the other Southern yellow pines. has been found to be one of the most satisfac- tory trees for reforestation purposes. The trees grow well on poor and abandoned land and on uplands. It requires about 30 years for a tree to reach its maturity, but at that time the tree will average well over 60 feet in height and will have a diameter 4 feet from the ground of about 9 inches. The wood, being