Читать книгу Beverly Gray's Quest - Clair Blank - Страница 3

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It was a bright sunny morning, one of the last days of summer. The boy on the bicycle pedaled leisurely, his shrill but happy whistle bringing smiles from passers-by. Before a brownstone house he stopped and rested his bicycle against the curb. He removed his hat and from it drew a pencil, a small black book, and the telegram he had come to deliver.

As he approached the house the front door opened and a tanned, slim, slightly smiling girl appeared.

“Does Beverly Gray live here?” the boy asked, consulting the name on the telegram in his hand.

The girl paused in the act of drawing on her gloves. “I’m Beverly Gray.”

“Telegram. Sign there.”

The boy thrust his book at her and when she had signed it he went away whistling. Beverly looked dubiously at the yellow envelope in her hand. What could it be? She tore the envelope and extracted the single sheet of paper. She read the printed words, a faint frown wrinkling her forehead. Then she whirled and ran into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. She burst in upon her friends waving the telegram.

“Guess what!” she commanded.

The three girls seated at the breakfast table looked up with various expressions of surprise.

“It is too early in the morning for guessing games,” Lenora Whitehill declared.

“Somebody has left you a million dollars,” Lois Mason ventured.

“Good news, Bev?” Shirley Parker asked.

“Good news!” Beverly echoed. “It is glorious—marvelous—the best thing that ever happened——”

“It must be a million dollars,” Lois laughed. “What else could make you happy so early in the morning?”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Lenora yawned. “Tell us quickly.”

“It is my book——” Beverly said. “My publishers had told me weeks ago that there was a prospect of selling it to the movies. This telegram confirms it and they suggest that I go to Hollywood and collaborate on the scenario.”

“You mean the movies—in Hollywood?” Lenora demanded. “California?”

Beverly looked at the telegram and nodded. “Mr. Stone has sold them the idea and all arrangements have been made. They suggest I go out and help in adapting the book for the screen.”

“Are you?” Lois asked.

“Of course she is,” Lenora returned. “This is just what she has been waiting for. Fame is practically on her doorstep.”

“It is wonderful, Bev,” Shirley added.

“I’m not famous yet, however,” Beverly laughed with a glance at her watch, “and Mr. Blaine is not a patient man. Tribune, here I come!”

“Tell your editor I’ll have those pictures of the fire for him this morning,” Lenora called after her friend.

Hurrying downtown, Beverly thought about the telegram in her handbag. There was an urge within her to go to Hollywood and have even the smallest part in launching her book into this new field.

What would Larry say? She looked at the diamond ring sparkling on her left hand. After a week it was still new and a bit unbelievable. Larry—White Corners—and her happiness—all securely tied together.

All morning Beverly went about lighthearted and gay. When she met Larry for lunch she could scarcely suppress the news until they were seated in a restaurant and had given their orders to the waiter. Then she silently handed him the telegram and waited while he read it. He looked up and smiled.

“It’s great, Beverly. Just what you wanted. I’m happy for you.”

“It is a little unbelievable,” Beverly confessed with a laugh. “To think of my book being one of those chosen—out of the thousands that are published every year!”

“It is an excellent book,” Larry said. He tapped the telegram. “This proves it. You deserve every bit of it. Are you going out to California?”

“I don’t know,” Beverly said. “I haven’t decided yet. It was just thrilling to think about——”

“It is what you have worked for,” he said.

“But I’ve something else now,” Beverly said. “There’s White Corners——”

“And me,” Larry finished, smiling. “We’ll always wait for you, Bev. If you want to go to Hollywood and——”

“Holding hands in broad daylight!” A strange, laughing voice declared.

“Mike!” Larry cried, leaping up and shaking the newcomer’s hand enthusiastically. “Sit down with us. Beverly, this is Michael McKay. He was my roommate in college.”

A pair of twinkling black eyes laughed down at Beverly from a tanned, rugged face under a shock of unruly hair. His smile was delightful and lighted his whole countenance.

“Larry has told me so much about you, Mr. McKay,” Beverly said as Mike slid onto the extra chair the waiter produced.

“I’ve been hearing about you, too,” was the frank rejoinder, “so I came to see who Larry had gotten himself engaged to. Now that I’ve seen you he has my approval. All the happiness in the world to both of you. Sure, from the looks of your smilin’ faces you’ve got a good slice of it already.”

“When Mike gets excited his Irish ancestors pop up in him, hence the brogue,” Larry informed her. “Mike, what are you doing in New York? The last time I heard of you you were a test pilot down in Texas.”

“I was that for almost two years,” Mike returned. “Then I got a berth on a freighter and sailed around South America. A very interesting country, that. While I was there I heard the story. That’s why I came looking for you.”

“What story?” Larry asked. “What does it have to do with me?”

“It is your chance for adventure,” Mike said, hitching his chair a little closer. “It is a beauty spot the like of which you’ve never seen. Orchids growing wild——”

“Get to the point, Mike.”

“The point is the emerald.”

“Emerald!” Beverly echoed.

“So big it takes two men to lift it,” he assured her solemnly.

“Oh, come, Mike,” Larry laughed. “Where did you ever hear that story?”

“From one of the natives,” Mike said. “I did something for him once—saved his life as a matter of fact. I know he wasn’t misleading me. He told me about it and approximately where it is.”

“If he knows, why doesn’t he get it?” Larry interposed.

“The natives are superstitious about the section of land where the emerald lies—witchcraft or some such nonsense. Look, Larry, I’ve sketched a map. With a plane we could land easily on the flat portion of plateau and——”

“We?” Larry interrupted.

“You and I,” Mike said.

“Wait a minute!” Larry laughed. “In about three weeks I start on a new job behind a shiny desk and with my own secretary. I can’t go galloping around South America. Besides, what gave you this idea?”

“Two of my best friends went to find the emerald. They never came back. I want to know what happened to them. I thought since you have your own plane——” Mike looked hopefully from Larry to Beverly. “We could probably do it in three weeks,” he offered.

As Mike talked Beverly could see that Larry was beginning to waver. He listened, occasionally asking a question which Mike eagerly explained. It seemed Mike had considered every possibility. At last Larry looked across at Beverly, eyes twinkling.

“What do you think, Beverly?”

“Mike makes it very interesting,” Beverly smiled. “I’d almost like to go myself.”

“It is only for three weeks,” added Larry, “and if you go to California——”

“Then you agree?” Mike asked eagerly. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

“If we go we will use the Red Bird III,” Larry said, “but I haven’t committed myself yet. I want to think it over.”