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Show f" ' rtY " ' By JOSEPH McCORD WNll.Sr.rvirr. , THE STORY SO TAR: Lany Cutter tell In love with Jacqueline (Jack) Anthony, An-thony, pretty public stenographer at the Hotel Raynear. When ihe told him about her longing for travel, he said she could realize her ambitions by marry- IXSTALLMENT FIVE Ing him. Jacqueline had Just lost her life's savings by gambling In the stock market, and her father had left her only a month before when she refused re-fused him additional money for work on his inventions. Stunned by this double blow, she accepted bis proposal and they signed a contract permitting her to continue con-tinue her mode of living and to nullify the marriage after six months. They set Saturday as their wedding day. Now continue with the story. ' Jacqueline had a distinct recollection recol-lection of being shocked by the minister's min-ister's casual query as to whether a ring ceremony was desired, being even more shocked by Larry s prompt, "Oh, yes. Please." And there he was, fumbling in his vest pocket. Then the ceremony. Jacqueline standing beside Larry, conscious only of how huge he seemed. "Dearly "Dear-ly beloved ..." She was being married. mar-ried. Managing responses in some fashion. Feeling the warm clasp of Larry's fingers ... A ring being slipped over her finger. The bride tried to realize what it meant, the solemnity ... "I pronounce you . . ." A new fear pervading the dream. Sudden. Overwhelming. Would Larry kiss her when the last words were spoken! He didn't! Just drew her to him with an instinctive move, then released re-leased her. And the bride was con- . scious of an instant's resentment. It was perilously akin to disappointment. disappoint-ment. She could not know that her new husband had put up the most gallant fight of his life when he resisted the temptation to claim that kiss. r TV 7f startled as if someone had spoken that name in her ear. She was going to miss Larry . . . miss him. And, before she could turn away her face, he was looking directly at her. Smiling. "Like it?" he asked in a low voice. "Oh, yes . . . Interesting." There was a picture, after all. Jacqueline tried to center her attention atten-tion on it. When they prepared to leave, the first thing she touched was that ring. She slipped it back on her finger. Larry might feel hurt and . . . after all. After Larry and Jacqueline had left Terryville behind, he seemed to recover his spirits. He had "spotted", "spot-ted", a very good looking Inn on the way over. They would stop and celebrate with a real meal, if Jack were willing. "Not in any special rush to get back are you?" "Oh, no." . "Thought you might have a date." He chuckled quietly, as the significance signifi-cance of his last words appealed to him. "Rather quaint, when you come to think of it, isn't it?" Jacqueline laughed in spite of herself. her-self. "I think that's the word I've been searching for all day," she decided. The roadside inn fulfilled Larry's fondest hopes. Even Jacqueline discovered dis-covered that she was hungry now, sitting at a cozy table lighted by shaded candles. "Will you join me in a little something some-thing ... to our united health?" Larry asked. Jacqueline was startled from her CHAPTER III Cloudless skies ushered in Jacqueline Jacque-line Anthony's fateful Saturday. She had slept little, but that unbearable apprehension had subsided. The spirit of adventure was making itself it-self felt. This was a real adventure, one that few girls had undertaken. And, strangest of all, it began to assume a slightly humorous aspect. Jacqueline was somewhat shocked at that, not realizing thnt it was one relief offered her taut nerves, j Breakfast proved to be a distaste-j distaste-j ful thought, but she made coffee ' while spending a little extra time j in arranging her shining hair be-I be-I fore the mirror. Almost eight! She must hurry, not keep Mr. Cutter waiting. Her forced gaiety forsook her as she paused I for a last look about the room. She ! was saying good-by again. And 1 there was no one ... no one. I With a rising lump in her throat, ' she made a swift little rush to the mantelpiece and caught up a small framed photograph. She pressed it against her smooth cheek for an instant. in-stant. "Good-by, Vince," she whispered. "Wish me . . . luck." Her wedding day! Larry Cutter was waiting. On time. Jacqueline took a moment to peep out of the window at him while she made a final effort to regain her composure. There he was, lolling comfortably in the deep seat of a huge roadster with its top folded back, showing no sign of anxiety whatever. His hands were nowhere near the horn button. She opened the door and walked down the few steps to the street. "Good morning, Mr. Cutter." "Oh ..." , The exclamation died on Larry's lips as he looked up and saw the little lit-tle figure in brown coming to meet him. His first glimpse of her in the daylight. How beautiful she was . . . little Jack. His little Jack! He scrambled out of his car with but one desire in his heart ... to snatch her up in his arms. To hold her close . . . Instead, he stood very erect and managed an almost formal bow. "How are you, Miss Anthony?" Then he assisted her into the car, walked around the machine and seated himself behind the wheel. reverie by the question. "No, thank you. I don't . . . I'm not a very good sport. But you order something for yourself." "Of course I won't Didn't I teli you that I never took a drink alone? Here's to you . . ." He lifted his glass of water with a smile. Thereafter, Larry became the perfect per-fect host and entertainer to his bride. Their waiter, a thin Negro with flashing white teeth, brought up the memory of an incident in Egypt, a trip up the Nile in a dahabeah with a friend. Jacqueline leaned forward to ask breathlessly, "It wasn't Mr. Allan, The motor pulsated under its long hood, began a powerful humming. "All set?" "Yes." The roadster rolled easily from the curb, quietly picking up speed. Jacqueline's conjecture that Mr. Cutter would devote most of his attention at-tention to driving proved pleasantly correct. While they were making moderate progress through traffic, terse sentences from her driver enlightened en-lightened her somewhat. They were going to a county seat in the adjoining state. Terryville was its name. About eighty-five miles, if the road map was fairly accurate. "Ever been there, Miss Anthony?" Antho-ny?" "No, I haven't, Mr. Cutter." "How about making it 'Larry'? After all ... " His wide mouth relaxed re-laxed in a smile, but the dark eyes watched the path ahead of the roadster's road-ster's hood. "All right . . . Larry. And my name is Jacqueline." "Not to me. You're 'Jack.' I hope you don't mind . . . Just suits you. I love it." Little was said after that. Larry gave his car more and more speed until it seemed to Jacqueline they were flying. She relaxed against the comfortable cushions and gave herself her-self up to the joy of the experience. Feeling the wind beat against her face, loosening her hair. Terryville at last. "If my scouts are correct," Larry e , observed, "it will not be necessary is for you to go to the clerk's office ... if you don't mind giving me the necessary data. Maybe you'd 1 like to wait for me at that good- looking hotel yonder." I "I would . . . please." That was ' thoughtful of Larry, i He left her in the lobby after jot-' jot-' ting down a few notes regarding, She was seeing the Land of Heart's Desire almost through her own eyes. But he had promised to play the game. "Now what?" was. Larry's vague question, after he had seated himself him-self in the car beside his wife. "Home, I suppose." Jacqueline's voice shared his uncertainty. "Umm . . . m. Seems as though we might do something to celebrate our wedding day, What do you say if we go to a movie?" "Why ... Of course!" Jacqueline Jacque-line caught at Larry's suggestion with undisguised relief. An hour or more in a darkened theater would give her a chance to reconcile herself to a situation which already had surpassed the bounds of imagination. Best of all, it would preclude any attempts at conversation ... or should. She never could be sure what this amazing amaz-ing man might do or say. In spite of his promises, he might feel that his new status carried a prerogative preroga-tive of sorts. He had said that he considered himself a gentleman. He was proving prov-ing it ... so far .. . Beautifully. But his bride still was a little fearful. fear-ful. Still more so, when Larry announced an-nounced his intention of leaving the car on a parking lot and doing a little exploring on foot. That done, his next offering was: "How about something to eat now . . . Mrs. Cutter?" "Please don't!" It came out in a swift, frightened tone. "I couldn't "I'm sorry. Won't do it again. That was just a slip . . . But I do have papers to that effect. Here ." He halted and took the certificate cer-tificate from his pocket. "You'd better bet-ter take this and keep it with the other exhibits." Larry smiled contritely and was it?" Larry's hearty laugh caused nearby near-by diners to regard him in mild surprise. sur-prise. "No. This is straight goods." "I'm so glad. Then you have traveled?" "Rather. On my dad's bounty at first, spent most of my vacations going about. He was very generous. After I was on my own, I was more or less of a tramp . . . never content to settle down and work for things. I wanted to make a big strike, win a good pot." How like Vince, Jacqueline thought. Then she asked, "Has your father been dead for some time?" "Thirteen years." Larry's mouth set in a sudden grim line. "Rather tough, too. Lost everything he had and ... as a matter of fact, he killed himself." "Oh, please . . . I'm sorry." "That's quite all right. I'll tell you about it some day, if you care to hear it. Not tonight." Then he was talking again of his mining quests. Making a stake here and there, moving to new fields. Mexico. Down into Bahia where they wash black diamonds out ol the river gravel. Over into Bolivia. Down to Chile. Back to the States for a try at gold panning in California. Cali-fornia. And Jacqueline followed the Aeneid with shining eyes and bated breath, almost forgetting to eat in her excitement at uncovering so great a mine of information. For the time being, the earlier affairs of the day and their significance were forgotten. She was seeing the Land of Heart's Desire almost through her own eyes. "I'm afraid that you got me ' wound up," Larry remarked with an apologetic laugh, glancing at his wrist watch. "I didn't mean to deliver such a travelogue." "I loved-it!" what he termed, the- bride's "color, race and previous condition of servi-i' servi-i' tude." He was back at the hotel within 't the hour, smiling and tapping the pocket of his coat. 'I "All set, Jack. If you're ready ... My word! I never thought to I ask you! I've located a minister, '' but perhaps you'd rather have a - civil ceremony." ' "Oh, no. I'd much prefer a min-I min-I ister." "Good! So would I. Wish, for ',' your sake, we could do it in church with all the trimmings. Nerves all right?" "Yes." ',' "You're rather wonderful! Come ahead." , That next hour was more than ever like some dream. There was ! a neat white house next door to a 'I ;hurch. The minister proved to be ! a rugged-faced young chap wearing EJ sack suit, not at all formidable. moved on. He was trying to be nice, Jacqueline thought. And this big, alert faced man was her husband. Once within the theater, Jacqueline Jacque-line removed the slender wedding band from her finger and dropped it into her bag. The symbol had served its part in the little drama. In a few hours, it all would be over. She might as well begin now adjusting herself to the next act. Larry would be behind the scenes ! after today. For how long? She stole a look at him. He seemed to be staring impassively I at the screen with its moving fig-' fig-' ures and amplified voices. His pro-file pro-file showed clear-cut against the dim glow shed by a cluster of wall lamps. It was a good profile, strong. He was a man of whom any woman might be proud, if only . . Jacqueline CutterV heart gave a frightened little jumD. She was as j Jacqueline's eyes, as well as her lips, said that. It all was very wonderful . . . And over with. Larry Lar-ry was signaling the waiter to bring the bill. No more talks like this. It seemed just a little sad. Those homeward miles were covered cov-ered in almost complete silence. Both the riders were busy with their reflections, finding relief in each other's oth-er's willingness to refrain from speech. Larry Cutter was fighting down desire, his jaw grimly set Here was the end of his happiest day . . . Forced to abide by the rules he had drawn up . . . Caught in his own code. He would play the game to the end but . . . only because he must. It hurt. Jack, here alone with him under the stars. His arms aching with emptiness. (TO BE COXTINIED ' |