Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

coming! I'm so happy you came." It was good, but somehow a little frightening, to feel the hard young muscles of his arms around her, and the firm touch of his lips on hers. "You've got my answer for me, Sunday? You're going to come with me to England?" "I — I — " Gently she freed herself and sat down on the rock, hands braced at her sides, her long hair, the color of the gold-tinted clouds in the west, falling down straight behind her. "I don't know, Arthur. Couldn't we be married here, first, and then go?" "No, that wouldn't work out," he assured her quickly. "Darling, I don't think you quite understand. We can't be married, you know. . . ." "We can't be — married? But what — " She stared at him uncomprehendingly. "No — you see, I come from a very old family — I may be the Earl of Brinthrope some day — and I couldn't— well, it wouldn't be right for me to marry you, Sunday. But I love you, darling, and we could have such wonderful times together!" Eagerly, he tried to take her once more in his arms. "No, no!" she cried. "Don't, Arthur! Please! I couldn't — " "Brinthrope!" It was Jackey's voice. He stood just behind them. And Sunday screamed when she saw what he held in his hands. The scream mingled with the sharp whine of a bullet, and Arthur fell to the ground. "Come back to the house, Sunday," Jackey said in a tense voice. "Jackey!" she whispered. "You've killed him!" Jackey's expression did not change. The shaggy brows were still drawn down over the old eagle eyes; deep lines were still carved between nose and mouth. "Figured to," he said. "No man can say what he said to any gal of mine and get away with a whole skin. Come on back to the house." She began to edge around the rock, keeping as far as possible from the still figure on the ground, whimpering with fright. "Oh, Jackey— what are you going to do now?" "Ain't quite figured that out. You leave him be, now. I'll come down after dark and get rid of the body, somehow." "They'll find out though, Jackey —somebody will find out!" "Maybe I'll give myself up, gal " Jackey told her. "We got to figure all that out later." 14 ■ Sunday said affectionately. "Bill, I wish I loved you the way you want me to. Maybe I do and don t know .t. ■ Bill $aid: "It isn't that I'm jealous, but if you'd only let But events moved so swiftly that there was no time for Jackey to do what he called "figurin'." That night, when he returned to the pine grove, Arthur Brinthrope's body had disappeared, and in the morning, when he inspected the spot more closely, he found wolftracks. . . . "Maybe he's not dead!" Sunday cried at first, grasping at the straw of hope offered by his disappearance. "Not much chance," Jackey answered gloomily. "Be pretty hart for a feller with a bullet in him to get very far away — even if the wasn't them wolf tracks arounoAnd there ain't nobody down i Silver Creek seen him since yeste day." ,he Lively hadn't been told oi \ shooting, and he pottered ^ea*7 about the cabin, fretting at the cret he knew Sunday and Jac were sharing. But Jackey, i°r first time in their long friendship, couldn't confide in Lively. This was a secret that spelled danger for everyone who knew it. "Just promise me," Sunday begged Jackey, "that you won't— won't do anything until we know for sure whether Arthur is dead or alive." For Jackey now wanted to go to the Silver Creek sheriff and make a clean breast of the whole affair. Reluctantly, he promised Sunday at Iast that he'd wait at least until *n*DA*Y, 1940 the body had been found. And that was the situation when Lord Henry Brinthrope, Arthur's brother, arrived unexpectedly in Silver Creek— to find that Arthur, with whom he had intended to discuss the local Brinthrope mine holdings, had disappeared without leaving a trace behind. It was only a day after his arrival that his inquiries led him up the trail to Sunday's cabin. She watched his long-legged fig ure climbing the steep trail with a sense of panic. And yet there was no use in running away. Her only hope was to meet him, answer his questions directly and apparently with honesty, and do her best to keep him from interrogating Jackey. Bill Jenkins had already told her Lord Henry was in town. She'd known this moment was inevitable. Drawing a deep breath, she went to answer his knock. He wasn't at all like Arthur, she saw when she opened the door. He was taller and a year or so older, and there was a strong line to his chin that Arthur hadn't had. Most striking difference of all, though, was in his eyes. They were direct, honest, friendly, and they told her at once what Jackey had meant when he said he didn't like the look of Arthur. Jackey would like the look of Arthur's brother. "I'm Henry Brinthrope," he said. "And you must be — well, you must be Sunday. I'm sorry, but down in the village I can't remember that anyone ever mentioned your last name." "It's Smithson," she said blushing. "But everyone calls me Sunday." "No wonder — it suits you perfectly." He had an English accent too, like Arthur's. "It's probably impertinent — but how did you get it?" "I was an orphan, and I was left on Jackey's and Lively's doorstep on a Sunday. So — they just called me that." "Logical enough," he smiled. "They said in the village that you know my brother, and I thought perhaps he might have told you where he was going." "No," she said quickly. "No — he didn't. Did he know you were coming?" He shook his head. "I wanted to surprise him." No need to tell this lovely child just why he had wanted to surprise Arthur: that funds were strangely missing from the Brinthrope Mines, and it was more than likely Arthur could, if sufficiently frightened, explain their disappearance. "Well," he said lightly, "it doesn't really matter. Arthur's always making up his mind to leave a place overnight. He'll turn up, I suppose." But when he had gone back down to Silver Creek, he wired a firm of private detectives in Denver, asking them to send one of their best men to see him. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Bill Jenkins was paying his weekly call on Sunday. (Cont'd on page 66) 15 RADIO AND TELEVISION MB**