Read Online The Traitor by Sydney Horler - Free Book Online Page B

stop a motor-car or aeroplane magneto, so long as the magneto was not protected by lead. According to the information we have been able to gather, the inventor, pressed to do what he considered at the time was impossible, abandoned this research in disgust and concentrated his attention in another direction.
    â€œBut it was recognised even then by every air authority that it was of the most vital importance that this work should be carried on and developed. For, conceive the situation for yourself; if a way could be found which would put out of action the engine of an aeroplane, then all hostile aircraft—and these are bound to be the deciding factor in any new war—would be rendered powerless.”
    The speaker turned to his desk as though suddenly tired.
    â€œWell, that is all,” he said. “You shall hear from me at an early date. But I would warn you, Fräulein,” as the woman stood up, “not to indulge in any foolish misapprehensions of any kind. It will be useless for you to return to the luxurious home of your past few weeks: the house of Ferdor Masalsky has been closed this afternoon by my orders.”
    Feeling faint, Minna staggered away.

Chapter II
    Youth In Love
    In the small drawing-room of the house at the corner of Chesham Place, two people—a woman of forty-five and a girl of twenty—were talking in low tones. 1935 is not a year in which girls of twenty parade their emotions, but Rosemary Allister was very desperately in earnest.
    â€œAre you ashamed of me for talking like this?” she asked.
    The woman smiled and patted the girl’s arm.
    â€œAshamed? No, darling; I think it splendid of you to give me your confidence.” She looked at the young, ordinarily radiant face, now ravaged by anxiety, and sighed secretly that the days when a man had talked about her, as this girl was talking about the adopted baby whom she had always regarded as her own son, were over; they had passed her by many, many years before. Alan, her husband, was a dear, but the war had seemed to change him irretrievably, as it had changed so many other men. He had never been quite the same since.…Ah, well, she still had Bobby—although, if this vehement but singularly attractive girl had her way, her adopted son would soon pass into the keeping of some one else.
    â€œYou do understand, don’t you?” went on the girl. “I’ve kept this bottled up so long that I really must find some outlet. I’m crazy—just crazy about Bobby, but I don’t think he cares a solitary single damn about me.”
    Mrs. Clinton professed to be shocked.
    â€œHush, Rosemary.”
    â€œWell, that’s my conviction, and I believe I’m right. Take this present leave, for instance. Why couldn’t he let me meet him at the station? And why is he going off abroad, when I had planned so many lovely things to do with him?” Tears threatened in the deep-blue eyes.
    Mrs. Clinton tried to pacify her as best she could.
    â€œSit down, my dear. Bobby will be here any moment now, and he mustn’t see you upset.”
    The girl allowed herself to be drawn to a chair facing the wide window, but as soon as she was seated she started off on a fresh outburst.
    â€œIn spite of your being so decent, I suppose it’s all wrong my going on like this—but I can’t help it. The thing is getting me down— I can’t sleep and I can’t eat.…Mrs. Clinton, were you ever in love with some one who”—a suspicion of a sob—“didn’t care?”
    â€œNot when I was your age, Rosemary. You see, Alan—my husband—came along before I had had much time.…”
    â€œLucky for you,” was the comment; “for let me tell you it’s just plain hell.”
    â€œDoesn’t Bobby write to you, darling?” asked the older woman.
    â€œOh, he writes—but he’ll fill up pages with stuff that bores one stiff; all