MARKED DOWN FOR KILLING

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 60, Issue 201, 3 June 1940, Page 7

MARKED DOWN FOR KILLING

j By SYDNEY HORLER.

:: (COPYRIGHT). tj

2 » Story of British Intelligence Service. 1

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Elderly Gentleman: May I trouble you, M. Standish? Standish (abstracted): Er? Elderly Gentleman: I should explain myself. I am the London correspondent of the principal Taine newspaper—the Messenger, as you would call it in English. Standish (bored): Oh, yes.

Tiger Standish, famous as a sportsman, is also an agent of the Britis i Intelligence Service, He is about to leave for a public dinner at which he is to make a speech, when he receives a telegram in code from Sir Harlem Bellamy (otherwise “The Mole ). his Secret Service Chief, warning him to look out lor trouble.

Elderly Gentleman: Your speech tonight, M. Standish—it'was very fine. Standish (more bored): Oh, yes. Elderly Gentleman : So fine that I am taking the liberty of asking you if I might have your notes?Standish: .1 haven’t any notes —I lost ’em. Elderly Gentleman (in an entirely different voice): M’m ! It seems to mo that you have lost something else, too. Where are vour eyes?

CHAPTER 11. SPORTSMAN’S FEAST. The banquet given by that essentially democratic body, the English Football Association, to its guests was a memorable occasion. There was a time when professional football was regarded in this country by a certain section of snobbish-minded people as the very scourings of sport, but modern opinion is more enlightened, and many distinguished figures in the Arts, Society and even Polities, were present to give welcome and pay tribute to the Continental touring side which lfiid done so well on English soil. The banquet itself lived up to the company. Charles, the famous maitie d’ hotel,.had done his best which is only another way of saying that here was a feast over which the most critical minded of gourmets would have enthused. When he entered the room by the side of his wife, Tiger Standish was momentarily nonplussed by the vociferous applause that greeted his arrival. The guests, players and officials ailke had not .forgotten the brilliant solo effort that had resulted that afternoon in the English centre-forward scoring the goal which represented the home side’s only point. Rut, auspicious as had been his entry, this dgl not suffice to prevent him from betraying marked nervousness during the course of the meal. To the distinguished statesman a rabid soccer fan —w’ho addressed several remarks to him he gave only perfunctory replies. At last, Sonia summoned up sufficient courage to ask him the reason why he was so distrait and even she was dumbfounded when he whispered back:

Standish (after staring hard): You old devil!

Sir Harker Bellamy grinned like the impish ogre to whom he was often likened. ’This man with the grey-tinted face, who looked as though he had spent the greater part of his life living underground (hence his nickname of “The Mole”), could be a ruthless taskmaster—he had to be on occasions, seeing that- he controlled one of the most important departments of British Intelligence—but at other times he could behave with a schoolboyish lack of dignity. “You got my wire?” he now asked. Standish, who concealed an admiration that amounted almost to reverence for the'-man in whose service he had brought off so many brilliant coups as a free-lance secret agent, put on the manner he usually affected when meeting his superior. “Yes, I did—and what the devil did you mean by it?” he demanded. Sir Bellamy, in no way perturbed by this laclg of respect, grinned impishly again. “Shook you up a hit, I expect?” “Don’t be an ass! What did worry me was having 1 6 make this speech tonight—and on top of it all I forgot my notes!” Bellamy looked suddenly serious. “We can’t talk here—too many people. Follow me.” It was only when they were standing ir a distant corridor, and with no one within possible earshot, that the Chief o r Q.l. spoke again. “I had a very special reason for sending you that' telegram. Tiger,” he said, and now his voice matched his expression : “you may think that getting myself up in this way,” pointing to his chriously-cut evening clothes, “was just a foolish masquerade. Nothing of the sort! It happens that, strange as it may seem, there are one or two people here to-night who are not very well disposed towards either of us.” “HIS NAME IS CARLIMERO.” “Cut out the melodrama,” adjured the younger man, although he knew that Bellamy would not have said the words without sufficient reason. “This is a. gathering of sportsmen.” “Quite!” returned Bellamy crisply; “and they shoot other things besides goals.”

“I left those dashed notes at home—what the deuce shall I do now?”

“Never mind, you’ll be-all right,” whispered Sonia, “it’s all for the best.” As it happened, she was right. Her faith in' her man proved to he more than justified: directly Standish rose to his feet to respond to the toast of the evening, all the nervousness, he had shown previously vanished as though some good fairy had waved her magic wand. Looking entirely self-possessed, Tiger evoked a quick laugh and a burst of applause by addressing the visitors as “Our good friends, the enemy,“ and then for the space of five minutes made so many other happy “hits”—some of them at the expense of himself that old Dan Whinnery, the veteran sports Writer on the staff of the “Daily Wire,” remarked in a very audible tonei: “If Standish went in for politics, he’d inject so much fresh air into that gas-house that the House of Commons would explode!” -The final words of the speech were almost drowned by a furious clapping; and Tiger sat down, conscious that he had turned what he had imagined would be irreparable defeat iflfto outstanding victory.” “Darling, you were marvellous!” was the reward his wife gavo him as, beneath the table, her hand sought his. * * * * WTien the other speeches had come to an end, the party adjourned into another room to chat together over the coffee-cups, a happy innovation on the part of the hosts. iSonia—easily the prettiest woman in the room was quickly taken up by the team manager of the touring side who was very anxious to know if she could persuade her husband to come to Taine, the capital of his country, to play just "one game with the Plemple team. M. Jaimez rose to almost lyrical heiglits when he started to expatiate on the English centre-forward’s abilities.

“Stop talking in.parables,” returned Standish; “and who’s ‘they’?” To his surprise, Bellamy, instead of giving a direct answer to this direct question, burst into a babble of almost unintelligible broken English.' Familiar as he was with his superior’s methods, Tiger stared increduously at him until lit- noticed the very direct look in the older man’s eyes. Then he tumbled. Something was in' the wind —and it was something important. “As I have already told you, Monsieur Pomfret,” he said loudly, playing up, “I should be most happy to oblige you with the notes of my speech—if I only had them ! Ha, ha!” ‘‘That was very good, my boy; you deserve top marks,” observed Bellamy, now speaking in his normal voice; “I burst into that flood of meaningless words just now because a certain young man, having followed us out of the other room, was watching us very curiously.” “I see. Did he belong to ‘they ? “He did, most emphatically! And when I tell you his name, Tiger, my boy, you will understand, I hope, that it was providential on my part that I came ''here in so good a disguise that even you could not penetrate it.” Standish squared his shouldeis. “Well, now, let’s have the facts; I’m tired of this preamble business. Wlio is the fellow?” “His name is Major Vincento Carlimero. Yes,” noticing the younger man’s start of “that name is very familiar to you, isn’t it? It ought to be seeing that you choked the life out of his esteemed father, a matter of a few years ago.” “Carlimero?”

“If this were not the 20th century, Madame Standish,” he said, fiercely gesticulating, “your husband so gallant, so brave a fighter, so altogether English—would be a beau sabreur in other worlds of sport. But alas! Those romantic days are gone! So must he have to be content himself, n’est-ce-pas, with performing prodigies of valour on the football field?”

Sonia nodded her pretty head. 'She looked grave, but inwardly she was laughing. If only she could have told M. Jaimez some of the other things that Tiger had done during the past few years she was willing to bet that the few remaining hairs on this Continental sportsman’s head would have risen in sheer astonishment. “YOU GOT MY WIRE?” But the man, in one sense, had been right. Tiger had been born out of his generation; he should have worn a sword instead of carrying an umbrella ; he should have had iace ruffles at his wrists instead of St. James’s Street shirtings; he should have led a cavalry charge instead of being the vanguard of England’s soccer team. • “You will ask him to come, Madame?” repeated M. Jaimez, “all Taine will do him honour.”

“Carlimero. In case you’ve lost your memory as well as your notes, 1 would remind you that Dr. Carlimero was a prominent member of the Rahusen organisation which used to operate here in London the said few years back.” . “You needn’t remind me.” Tiger’s tone was now sharp. “But what’s his son doing here?—and more particularly what is he doing at this dinner tonight?” “As an Attache of the Caroniau Government enjoying the hospitality of the Ronstadtian Embassy at the moment he has a perfect right to’bo in London—that is, speaking diplomatically, because lie received an invitation. I haven’t had time vet to ascertain who sponsored him, but that will come. Meanwhile, Major Vincent Carlimero is after your blood, my young friend, and if he can collect a few corpuscles of mine, in addition, be will bo even more pleased.” “What’s lie like?”

“I’ll do my best, M. Jaimez,” she replied. “I cannot say for certain, of course—my liusbaild has so many calls on him, you know.” Sonia looked over to the far corner where she noticed her husband being buttonholed by a curiously-garbed elderly gentleman.. As there were so many celebrities present she put the latter down as a forign savant of some kind. She observed that Tiger was listening to what this man was saying to him with an expression that appeared to he made up of equal parts of bewilderment and boredom. If she had been nearer she would have overheard the following conversation :

“Dark, slim, tallish, five feet nine or so—very good-looking in a Latin way ; extremely well-dressed—over-dressed, if anything—succesful with the ladies, has a bitter tongue and a very good

memory. Is that sufficient for the time being?” “It’s ample. But how do you know lie’s come here to-night after me?” “Must you ask that, Tiger?” returned Bellamy with a look of reproach; “need I tell you that all sorts of information comes to me at Q.l. every dav?” i

Standish struck himself a slight blow with his clenched fist on the right temple. “Excuse the scattered wits,” he said apologetically; “but this is rather nasty news. 1 want to live a quiet life; I yearn for a little golf, atrociously as I play it—and perhaps a little fishing; now, it seems I have to go slughunting again. Pity. Besides, it will upset Sonia—don’t you tel! her anything about this, mind,” lie went on urgently, catching bold of the lapel ot Bellamy’s abominable coat and giving it a sharp tug.

SECRETS AND WIVES. “I shall be discretion itself, my hoy —aren’t I always?” “Not always! For instance, I 'shouldn’t be at all surprised if she hadn’t rumbled that the telegram I got just before coming here was from your beastly self. She’s too good a sport to poke her pretty nose into my affairs, but when you want to get into touch with me again, 8., just let me'have a line at the Club. It would sweeten my married life. Will you remomben’ that, please?” Bellamy stepped into character again. “M. Standish,” he said, in the part of the London correspondent of the Taine “Messenger,” “you are kindness itself. I now take my leave of you with admiration, and may I add, deepest tha'nks?” “Go boil your lieiadi.”

And then another voice a. voice that whenever it spoke caused Tiger Standish’s heart to flutter—came from over his left shoulder.

“Excuse me interrupting, hut you’ve been an awfully long time away, my dear,” said Sonia Standish:: “people are asking where on earth you :aire.” Her husband did one of the 'adroit acts which he was accustomed to do when the' occasion demanded. “Allow me to introduce you to M. Pomfret, Sonia,” he said. “M. iPomfret is the London correspondent of the Taine “Messenger”—lie is a distinguished foreign journalist. He has been interviewing me on behalf of his paper. M. Pomfret—my wife.” M. Pomfret bowed from the withstand made mute » creditable job of it. “I am charmed, madamc — and I felicitate you on possessing such a. celebrity for your 'husband. Monsieur,” bowing again, ‘.‘always at your service. Thank you once again for your kindness.”

And, walking in a pronouncedly splay-footed fashion, the spurious correspondent of the Taiwe “Messenger” shuffled away. ;

“What a funny little man!” commented Sonia. Her husband took her arm. “A very funny little mdn, darling,” lie agreed.

(To he continued.)