The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1939-03-23
Chapter 20
Dispatch From Moscow

Chapter 20
Dispatch From Moscow
DETREL ran up the steps of the
i Continental. Ted Masters and
Rogers were drinking together at
q small table near the door. She
crossed an angle Of the lounge to
speak to them. They stood. They
looked tired, dusty, hot. They had
needed that drink, she surmised.
What had been happening in
Cairo? :
"a hard day." she asked.
"a thoroughly nasty day. Plenty
OF lost tempers. Peter Is sti4 out"
But Petronella sang softly to
herself as she bathed and changed.
Another beautiful evening Of dane
ing, laughter, and love making was
approaching. Usually her spirits
were infected easily by her sur.
roundings, but tonight the strife in
Cairo could not depress them. For
once she would be utterly selfish.
She would refuse to think about
the wounded police, the angry
demonstrators, injured, or kicking
their brown heels in Jail. She was
in love. I"
; When she heard a knock at her
door, she opened it instantly. It
might be Tony. She was ready.
But it was Peter who came STUN.
bling into the light. He had blood
stained handkerchief round his left
temple, and drawn, sheepish grin
on his face: smears of dust, and
blood made his appearance ghast-
ly.
"Peterl"
Sorry, my dear. I've gone and
got hurt again. I wonder if you
would just fix me up?" -
you're not badly injured? What
happeped?"
"A trolley car mobbed and over
turned. ! was near, and got into
the scrap. Couldn't stand by and
see women and children crushed.
Got hit on the head with bottle"
He was swaying. He could not walk
straight to the sofa. '-''
well, you come right here and
lie down here, old darling, and
show me what they've done to spoil
your bump of chivalry." When she
saw the bruise and the jagged cut,
she understood the glazed, bright
look in his eyes. She believed he
had slight conclusion. He did not
know it. He babbled cheerfully to
her. as the warmth Of the brandy
she gave him repealed his nausea
and faintness. When she had bath
ed and bandaged him, he raised
his right hand. It hung limp from
the wrist.
'This doesn't seem to be much
good either. Petrol. .Awfully sorry
old girl" he said, and tainted.
Briskly. with two combs, and
strips from the hotel face towel,
she made a rough splint. That was
as good Job as she could make of
it. 1t would prevent the pain of
crepituS. Now she must find one
of the already over-worked doc
tors. But it would not matter, so
desperately, if he could not come
at once.
Feel better, old boy?"
Heaps better. You'll need to re-
fill your flask! Think I'll Just stay
here quietly" He spoke as if he
was making a concession to femi-
nine over-anxiety. not obeying
necessity. Petrol wrinkled her
nose. Eyes. l shouldn't 20 playing
squash, or riding a camel, or fight
ing any more trolleys if l were
you'll" she laughed. THAT wrist
must be properly set. Peter. and
your head would be better off with
a stitch to draw it together. instead
of my plaster. I'll be back as soon
as ! can. The clerk will help me
find a doctor by telephone"
you'll have to feed my face
for me. Wouldn't this have been an
ideal opportunity for Aunt Maisie
to make me eat fat, and Marigold
to feed me with, oysters? I don't
like Fat, or oysters, you know"
he told her. confidentially.
"Whatan odd thing to say, Peter.
Idon't remember Aunt Maisie ever
attempting to make you eat fat"
It's You I Wanted
"OH yes, yes she did. once. And
~ Marigold tried to feed me
oysters at Quaglino's last winter.
Before we went to Greece. And
again in the Jubilee week. at the
Savoy. You know, Petrol" he
gripped her wrist, with his unin.
jured hand. 'Marigold just can't
understand why I don't like
oysters; ! feel sleepy. Sleepy as an
oyster"
"You certainly finished that flask
all right" smiled Petrol, releasing
herself gently. But she was wor-
ried. She did not believe that Peter
was drunk. He had been convivial
several times since their last visit
to England But this was the first
time he had told her that he had
met Marigold in London. She had
wondered, and half guessed that
he had. Their visit to Marigold's
country home had not been sue
cess. Neither Marigold's forced
gaiety, or young Jeremy Peter,
crawling on the hearth-rlig, or her
own efforts at conversation, had
been sufficient cover for Peters
numbness, and the unalterable
thought in all their minds. "This
is stili mistake"