Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

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It's for only two days but I've got to leave right away. You'd better call Phil and make our excuses." "Oh, dear, he'll be so disappointed." Then, halfway to the phone, she stopped. "Honey, I can't phone him. He and his mother were going up to the Lodge early to get things ready, and the telephone is disconnected up there. What'll we do?" Harry frowned. "It was such a darn nice gesture I hate to let him down. But I can't let a client down, either." "I could go on alone, I suppose, as long as there is no way to get in touch with them. But I don't want to." "I don't like it, either, but I guess there's no help for it. Be sure and tell them how sorry I am." Joan dropped him at the station in time to catch the 5:35, and then drove on up to Mountain Top. The long winding road brought back memories of childhood summers when she had visited at the Stanley Lodge. A lot of Stanwood people had had country places up there then. With the depression, many of them had been boarded up or sold, and now only a few families still used them. The Stanley Lodge hadn't been opened since old Mr. Stanley died four years before. SHE drove up beside the big, weather-beaten, shingled house and stopped. Phil in a white apron was broiling steaks over the outdoor grill. He waved a long-handled fork at her and grinned. "Hi! Where's Harry?" "He was called out of town at the last minute, Phil. He was just sick about it — why, what's the matter?" He was looking at her oddly. "My mother couldn't come, either. She picked up a heavy cold last night, and the doctor absolutely forbade her to get out of bed. I'd have called you but I didn't want to call off the party. It looks as if you and I were all that's left of it." He glanced ruefully at the sizzling steaks. "We might as well eat these anyway. I'm as hungry as a wolf." "Oh, Phil, do you think we ought to? I mean — " she flushed — "just the two of us alone up here?" "Who's to know about it? — except Harry and mother and they won't mind. Come on, Joanie, I bet you're hungry. It's a shame to let these go to waste." Joan was hungry after the long ride, and it seemed silly to stand on convention with Phil whom she'd known all her life. "Well, all right," she said. "But we'll go right after dinner." She set the table inside while Phil finished cooking. He had a big fire going in the fireplace and she was grateful for its warmth. These spring nights were still chilly. The room was bright and cozy with the flames flickering on the oak rafters and the old oil lamp smoking in the corner. As children they'd popped corn and toasted marshmallows in front of that fireplace. At dinner they regaled each other with stories from the past. "Remember the time," Phil laughed, "when Dad took us fishing and I put worms down your back? And how you — " he put down his fork suddenly, and listened. "That's funny. Whoever in the world — " The knocking came again. Phil went to the door and opened it. A woman's | figure was blocked out against the pale afterglow of sunset. Her face was in the shadow, but she wore an old cotton dress with a man's overcoat hung over it. "Oh," she said, "I reckon you're young Mr. Stanley. That's all right then. I saw the lights and came over to investigate." "Yes, it's all right. We're just having dinner up here." She stepped inside, and the light fell on her untidy gray hair and the large, mottled face beneath it. She smiled ingratiatingly. "I'm caretaker for the Miller place. I knew you didn't usually have this place open, and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Thought somebody might have busted in, or something." Her eyes darted curiously around the room and came to rest on Joan. They narrowed suddenly, "You're Mrs. Davis, aren't you? Mrs. Harry Davis." At Joan's wordless nod, she went on, "I thought I saw you with him one day. Well, I won't dis I turb you young folks any longer. You go right on with your little party." When Phil closed the door after , her, and came back to the table, Joan was staring at him with a white face. "Do you know who that was?" she I demanded. "That horrible woman, Mrs. Ashbey!" "You mean the one Harry had the run-in with? I didn't know you knew her." "I recognized her from the picture in the paper. Phil, I — I don't like this. She's vicious!" "Well, she can't hurt you. Go on I and finish your steak, Joanie." But Joan was nervous and uneasy during the rest of the meal. The j woman's eyes had held a malevolent gleam that she couldn't shake out of her mind. She made Phil hurry to \ clear off the table and do up the i dishes. She even denied him a final cigarette. They were putting out the fire on the hearth when the second knock came. Joan started. She drew back j into the shadows as Phil went to open \ the door again. This time it was a man she had never seen before. YOU folks got a pi one?" he asked "My car stopped down the road a i piece and I can't get her started up I again." "Sorry," Phil said. "It's disconnected. But we're leaving in a mo ! ment and if you'd like a push — " "That's all right. I'll find a phone." i He disappeared into the darkness. Phil laughed. "The Lodge never was so popular in the old days. Why, Joan, what's the matter? You're trembling." "Nothing. Let's just get out of here." Phil had come in his own car, so he followed her down the mountain and all the way to the cottage at Fox Meadow Lane. He pulled up behind | her when she stopped and got out. "It's funny," he said thoughtfully, "I didn't see any signs of that fellow's ' stalled car when we came down. Did you?" "No," she whispered. "And it's — mighty funny." She was shivering uncontrollably. 66 What will be the outcome of Joan's innocent rendezvous with Phil Stanley? Read the concluding chapter of this dramatic story in the August issue of Radio Mirror. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR