THREADNEEDLE STREET.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 61, Issue 5, 17 October 1940, Page 7

THREADNEEDLE STREET.

CHAPTER. XIX.

MONEY COOKS HIS "GOLDEN

GOOSE.”

“I’m more or less on the run, Dot,’ he told her in low tones. “I've been trying to get in touch with you for hours, without meeting you too publicly. it’s about my job. The unexpected has happened. One of the big police voices around here, fellow named. Marchand, has recognised me. You remember that Blue Train alfair?” “(josh—” It was her turn to look hurriedly around, not so much with caution as in a panic, “iiecognised you, Chris, after all this time, too?” “Yes, but he’s got nothing against me, and admits it. Still, after that, what’s my job worth up at the Chateau? I’m back with you and the others, that’s all.” “Only long enough for you and me to book passages to South America, or anywhere else you like, Chris!” she laughed softly. “Oh, you don’t know how glad i am that you're leaving that job. And it’s just'as well for you. I’ve been; having trouble with Duke about you. He’s been talking to certain people and — This time there was extreme caution in the way she looked around before going on: “nuke told me last night that Certain people liad a big job just now, to do with the millionaire of yours. Duke didn’t say what, wouldn't tell if he knew. Only he did say this. You being there, the talk-was that you weren’t to be trusted, were best put out of the way—. , . , “Fools!” Money chuckled grimly. “Putting me out of the way miglit just about finish them. And the sooner ,they know it, the better for , them. Jwhere is Duke Irwin just now?” “At his hotel, a cheap little place in the town. Duke doesn’t coineiout much in the day, doesn’t think it too wise. Besides, he’s very hard up, and Chris, don’l breathe a word to him about me having come into money. I’m keeping that dark.” . “Yes, he’d be blackmailing you for it, I know!’ ’Money laughed again took out pencil and a-little pocket-diary: “Better give me the address of that hotel: Maybe I’ll look in and see him.” ‘ln case you don’t get in touch with him, Chris, I can teli you where he will be to-night,” she remarked casually, while he was scribbling down the address she had given. “He’s going- he wanted me to go as well—-to the “Golden Goose.’ Somebody’s throwing a party there, he said. Do you know the place?” Money nodded. He certauily did know the place, far better perhaps than she did. But his manner indicated little real interest in the name, which was thafi of a night-resort on the coast in a rather picturesque and rocky part, considerably isolated from the more populated area, and even a little away from the main motor road. Apart from a reputation' as something of a gaming den, and a bright spot where noisy parties were held, sometimes with scandalous results, nothing was publicly said against the resort. It was specially popular with motorists and people who enjoyed the commanding and lovely view from its gaily-lit terraces, which overlooked the sea and some remarkable rocky ravines j and caves. Money was not thinking of all that, however. He had in mind a certain experience of his which had once allowed him an otherwise forbidden glimpse into what really lay. concealed beneath that surface of sophisticated sheen. He said no word of this to Dot, but remarked:

“It might be best if I went out there to-night, instead of hunting Irwin up here. I’ll probably find some of the rest of the crowd there, too.”

-“Why go near them, Chris?” Dot * urged, frightened. “Let’s cross the frontier into Italy, make for Genoa, sail on the next boat from there, while we’ve the chance.”

“Can’t be done. I’m going to the jGolden Goose to-night, to face anyone who* fancies liquidating me—•” “Then I’m going with you!” she insisted.

“You keep right out of it, Dot. A few tempers may be lost there to-night, once I start saying what I think. You stop out of harm’s way at your hotel, spend the time looking at your nice banking account, thinking out the good time you’re going to enjoy quite honestly for once—” “Listen, Chris. Come with me to the hotel now, and— if you do mean to go out there to-night—we’ll get a car, drive' Out there together—” “No. For one thing, I’m busy until evening. For another, as I said, yon’re staying right at your hotel, as the best and wisest thing you can do for yourself.”

She was still arguing when he left her, but apparently she had been persuaded by his advice. He was not much concerned with her, however. He knew very well that he might be quite wrong in working things out as he had been doing ever since she had mentioned the Golden Goose. A THIRD KIDNAPPING. There were a hundred reasons why he might be wrong, must be wrong, and he went over them stolidly. Ho had to admit that his surmise and the plan by which he proposed to prove it, seemed slender indeed. For that reason he presently dropped into a ’phone-box and rang up Marchand, with whom he spoke for some minutes. “It is often the madness of the Englishman which makes people call him great, instead of merely lucky!” Mkrehand finished the conversation, adding: “I’ll work on what you\have said and chance the risks.”

As Money slipped out of the cabinet which was in a quiet spot at the corner of an old market square, it looked as if he had been taking risks too. He was aggressively confronted by a bulky person, wearing horned-rimmed spectacles, who thrust something hard into the pit of his stomach. “It makes! no noise if it goes off, this bulky person murmured softly. “You kindly keep the hands out of the pockets, and como with me.” Money followed the other to the pavement’s edge, where a large rather dusty car stood with engine running.

By LESLIE BERESFORD. ::

A Serial Story of Money, Adventure and Love.

(Copyright)

(To be continued).

The bulky person with the hornrimmed spectacles sat beside Money in the back of the car, and the journey started. All the while the hard! muzzle of the gun prodded Money’s side. The man at the wheel was an

enthusiast for speedy recklessness. More bn an once Money remarked drily on the tact, then said to his .companion on tiie OacK seat:

"i suppose lie was the fellow who was

driving when you did your best to smash up Air rSellew's car a few evenings ago?” •‘Who told you that I was there?” the otlier demanded, taken aback. The car, dodging an oncoming lorry swerved and jolted so violently that Money's companion was thrown almost on top of him. When he recovered, Money was holding the man's hornrimmed glasses, which had fallen oil during tins shafting up. ‘T thought l-wasn’t wrong!” Money remarked drily, while they were passing through a sudden glare of light from some village shops and a cafe. "There's the blood-red scar on your nose Mr Bellew talked about. You can’t have been wearing these spectacles that evening. That was a mistake, Schuttzner —<”

"ho you also know my name?” the other glared at him. “We have never met before?”

"One may know quite a lot about people without meeting them, Slchuttzner. I might surprise you if i told you a few things about yourself you probably imagine hardly anyone knows. 1 never actually met you, for instance, during that little affair on the Blue Train—”

"Devil take you, I was never there!”

"Then where did you get that scar across the bridge of your nose, so that you wear glasses you don’t really need? And listen, Schuttzner. A woman was arrested two days ago in Paris—■’ ’

He bent towards his companion and whispered a name, and the result of that was quite startling. Schuttzner went livid, while his eyes bulged and his heavy mouth was distorted out of shape. “I'm afraid, Schuttzner, she's been talking to the police,” Money said. "I’m very much afraid, too, that quite a number of nice people like yourself are going to feel an uncomfortable draught.” "So?” The other gradually recovered himself, swelling out with a monstrous python-like gloating. "It is as has been thought. You are in with the police. Just as well that lam sent to pull you in, so that you shall be silenced. It was no doubt to the police you were telephoning while I waited for you?” The car had now left the main I'oad, and was descending a gradient towards the sea.. It jolted and skidded, so that talking became impossible. A few minutes Jater, when the car braked to a standstill, and Money was hustled out by Schuttzner, who still found it necessary fo use the persuasion of a hidden gun-muzzle, he at last recognised where he had been taken. “ ‘The Golden Goose’, Schuttzner!” he commented in frankly amused surprise as they passed in through a sidedoor on the lowest-fioor, entering a small, electrically-lit hall. * "Fancy going to the trouble of bringing me here!” he exclaimed quite cheerfully. "You’ve saved me the hire of a car ,you know, by giving me a free ride like this. I fully intended looking in here this evening, as it happened, l uriderstood someone was throwing a party, and hoped to see \some old friends again—” ’ "And you shall certainly see some old friends!” the other laughed, prodding Money along a passage, at the end of which another man opened a concealed doorway in a panelled wall, disclosing a narrow stairway leading downwards.

Money, as it happened from one previous and nightmare experience, knew of this door and stairway. He knew that the public part of the “Golden Goose,” with its gaily-lit terraces, dancing-rooms, bars, gaming-saloons and so on, aloof like a bird of bright plumage on the crest of a rocky foundation.

But the foundation, right down to the caves in the ravine.below, cut into concrete apartments, stairs and corridors housed different activities. Nothing of this was given away on its exterior of natural rock, or known to the thousands who yearly used the public part in the fresh sea-air above. ‘ “You find your old friends in here!” Money heard his captor presently chuckling behind him, saw a door slide open in front of him, and was so unexpectedly and violently struck from behind that he was flung forward into a large and lighted room, hearing the door close instantly with a clicking latch.