THREADNEEDLE STREET.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 60, Issue 309, 7 October 1940, Page 7

THREADNEEDLE STREET.

CHAPTER X. FRIENDS OF VERITY. Bellew, not a little sore from bruises, though less the victim of shock by now, insisted on going to the room where he worked, and having Vivien Ambrose sent to him. She was waiting for the call when Money found her on t c western terrace, where Verity was m subdued talk with her guests. * These numbered a bare half-dozen, and only two of them belonged to the particular little London clique Monej had met at “The Moon and Halo. The remainder made up a party, often visiting tho Chateau from a neighbouring villa. One, host to the _ rest, was a reputably wealthy Argentine, Sequeti os by name. David Bellew told Money once when discussing Sequetors, “I happen _ to have big interests in the Argentine, and Sequetros comes from one of those families there which have so much say in running the country that the investor like myself is wise to keep on the right side of them.” The others were Americans, Dan Corrigan and his wife, Lita, and a young man, Rex Princep, whom the Corrigans were understood to be sliou - ing Europe for educational purposes. Money had noticed that these people crowded out the few members of Verity’s little London circle, who were also staying in the district, including to some extent young Draper. Her boast that she was seeing as much of him as before her father had got rid of him was not, he knew well, quite true. So much of young Princep’s educational time was being spent with Verity that young Draper was forgotten. Money’s position allowed him to stand in the background, watching, so learning quite a deal, not only concerning Verity and her frieuds, but in other directions as well.

'He had by now a fairly deep insight into those business operation si of David Belfew and bis which were causing demoniacal fury in certain European States. Something he gleaned from Bellew himself, something from Vivien Ambrose, something from the sheaf of foreign newspapers ho. read daily. It had never quite struck Money before that diplomacy, national aspirations, patriotic frenzy and other ingredients of European strife, had really less to do with it than those movements of good, solid cash which were being manipulated by the world’s wizards of high finance working in the dark' of their bank-vaults to their own secret purposes, one group against the other.

David Bellew and his associates, Money know, were just now_ engaged in operations ■ of far-reaching importance, but of which no hint was given in the newspapers. Bellew, shrewd and farsighted, was prime-mover in the scheme, a genius against whom was levelled all the spite of the people whose object was to manipulate the world’s' monetary system in the interests of war.

(To be continued)

Tho motoring “accident” of this evening Jiad not surprised -Money, though it was the first move made in that direction since he had come into Bel lew’s employ. Readiness for emergency was a marked characteristic of his make-up, hut he had never agreed with tho optimism of Marchand as to Belle w’s safety. Money knew that the British secret agents did not lend themselves to the discovery of mares’ nests. Nor would •Slcoltand Yard have been called in had the authorities not received the most indisputable proof that David Bellew was threatened.

Among Verity’s friends, as Money joined them on the western terrace, the incident was spoken 1 of as an accident. His appearance brought polite inquiries from Sequetros, to which he replied: “Fortunately, apart from a lew bruises, it seems that Mr is no worse for the experience.” . “That is excellent. , . .” Sequetros turned to Verity, who was talking with the Argentine girl and young Princep. “Mr Money says your father is really unhurt, senorita, so you have no need to worry any more.” “Oh, I’jn not worrying!” Verity laughed huskily, without looking in Money’s direction. “If I' had really thought dad at all seriously injured I shouldn’t have left him till a doctor had seen him.”

Sequetros drew Money further- along the terrace, to a small table containing everything necessary for the evening aperitif. “After so much excitement and anxiety, is it out of place to suggest a little stimulant?” he laughed sauvely, and proceeded to carry out his idea, adding, with a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the others:

“They seem to be getting on very well, those two. It might be an excellent idea. The care of young Rex is of course a great responsibility for the Corrigans. He has, as you know, inherited the considerable wealth of his late father. His uncle and guardian was most particularly afraid that, over here in Europe, he might—with the illconsidered impulsiveness of youth—• form some quite improper attachment.” “He doesn’t somehow strike mo as inclined to unwise impulses,” Money reflected over tho rim of his glass, his eyes on the young American, who indeed had a sensible and quiet manner, for all his youthful eagerness, which was frank and unconcealed, though carefully restrained.

“You are not, I think', one of those men to whom pretty women are a potential danger,” tho other chuckled. “You are no doubt innoculated against that weakness. From Miss Bellew we have gathered that you are the famous strong, silent type, about which one roads in novels. In tho Argentine now—by the way, have you ever been to my country?” VIVIAN AMBROSE TURNS DETECTIVE. “I did live in Buenos Aires for a few years,” Money answered withoiri any expression of great interest. “My father was in the offices of a shipping, company connected with tho chilled beef trade. But—l left there when was just over eighteen.” “I suppose you don’t remember

By LESLIE BERESFORD.

(Copyright),

A Serial Story of Money, Adventure and Love. — - * * jmSSf MKS* AT Mk

much about it?” the other questioned casually. Just the ordinary ratherfoggy recollections of people and places and happenings, that’s all,” Money responded with a shrug. “Since I left I’ve had no occasion to remember I’d been there'.”

“Well, Julius Princep—the father of Rex—was a big name in the chilled beef business. You should surely have remembered that?”

“Now you remind me—perhaps I should have done,” Money agreed, though still without any show of interest.

“Mr Bellew, too, has considerable financial standing in the Argentine. However—” the other laughed “ —why do I tell you that, since you must be aware of it? An interesting job yours. Standing, so to speak, as a sentry over secrets. As Miss Bellew has said to us, your strong silent type would be so specially useful to a man like her father.”

Here, the entry of Bellew himself, joining them unobtrusively, caused the Argentine momentarily a surprise. He began to inquire at first hand as to the accident, how it could have happened, and talking of motoring roads in the Riviera as veritable death-traps.

Bellew agreed, giving away nothing of the real truth, and scorning any suggestion of personal hurt, though admitting an obviously narrow escape He changed the subject by' discussing the arrangements for that evening, which was to have been spent—for dinner at least—at the Sequestros’ villa.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself,” he explained. “I’ve some business friends to meet. But that won’t prevent you, Verity, from continuing with the plans. And you too, Money, so I won’t be upsetting the party unduly.”

“If I may,, sir, I’ll have to excuse myself too,” Money excused himself. “I’d intended to ask your permission ”

“By all means—if our friends here don’t mind ”

The Argentine said something polite, and Money eventually left the terrace with David Bellew, to whom he explained as they passed through the large central hall with its sweeping staircase. “Marchand may want you to get in touch with me over that so-called accident, sir. He’s supposed to he leaving for Paris to-night, and he’ll need to have a word with me before he goes.” “A telephone call for you, Mr Money!” the unemotional voice of Parks interrupted, and added, “From the prefecture, sir. Monsieur Marchand would be glad of a word with you.” “I’ll leave you to.it, Monpy,” Bellew said, mounting the great stairway.