Sir Vagabond

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 282, 28 November 1931, Page 10 (Supplement)

Sir Vagabond

B y DOUGLAS BUCHANAN.

CHAPTER XXIII. (Continued). Dr. Somers Speaks Out. "Oh, just a li'lle kick, Countess, to liven it up," drawled Eileen, two seats off. "It won't hurt her, it's quite a popular drink over across. Claque, it's called;, wonderful stuff to brighten you up." The Countess up the glass, smelt it, and tasted its contents. Then calling one of the maids, she said; "Throw that wretched stuff away, at once." Eileen frowned and shot a swift glance to the head of the table. "What's the matter?" asked the host when the-Countess resumed her seat by his side. "Oh, nothing very much," she said, 'Tour ward is a little, distrait. She is not used to this sort of thing, you know. I have told her she mustn't drink any more champagne." As she uttered the words, Violet Dale, her face by this time the colour of-chalk, rose unsteadily to her feet and then, with a vacant laugh, slithered sideways into the lap of Paul Mallam' in a dead -faint. Mallam picked up the unconscious girl in his arms and carried her to a settee at the other end of the room. She was moaning and her lips were stained a greenish colour. Harry Somers Jumped from his place and went over to her, the whole party following him, with Yorkie Dale butting through to the front row and scattering the guests in all directions. He gazed down at his daughter, who was now semi-conscious and shivering as in a migrainous vertigo. "My god! What is that horrible stain round her mouth?" he shouted. Lady Evenlode, who had procured a glass of tepid water, wiped the stain from the helpless girl's mouth with her lace handkerchief. At the same' time Dr. Somers took charge of the handkerchief. "Allow me, Countess," he said. Then, turning on one side, he put a powerful magnifying glass over the deep stain. . • ' Some soft substance was there, and. the, doctor smelt* it. "Hum!" he said, T thought-so! Put her to bed at once with plenty of hotwater bottles and blankets!" Yorkie Dale, his face drawn and livid, realised the .terrible.-drama of his worst fears. He. summoned Trim, his butler. "Trim, you and the whole of the staff are to be at the service of Dr. Somers!" ''Very good, sir,'? said the major-domo. And then, in an undertone, he asked earnestly (for Violet was a general favourite with lie servants) i "I hope it is nothing serious, sir!" "I don't know, Trim; I'm beside myself with anxiety. Where's. Doctor Somers? Oh, doctor, what do you make of it?" "I'm going up to see when they have got her in bed," said the imperturbable Harry. "Don't worry, Storey. I don't think it's anything serious—at pres.ent. iJut I'll let you know presently. Meanwhile, let the dance go on. We don't want a panic!" And he strolled away, playing with the seals at the bottom of his dress waistcoat, and, weighing his eyeglass. He was thinking deeply. He passed Eileen near the doorway and looked straight at her, his face full of meaning.

But he did not say anything to her. and left her listening to some excited remarks by Lady Evenlode which, the bright young heiress of Windrush received with xaised eyebrows and slight shrugging of ler handsome shoulders.

She had seen, she explained, so many people taken a little queer in this way when certain things did not' agree "with them. There was nothing in it, and she was quite easy in her mind about it. Of course, she wag sorry for Vi, but it would soon pass off! Had she known, she would not have had it happen for words, she assured' Yorkie.

Meanwhile Dr. Somers had called up lis host to his room. "Sit down," he said, offering him a cigarette, "and let us talk ■tilings over. The patient is going on all light. Where is your daughter, Eileen?" "I left her dancing with Gerald Ramsden. She seems to have been , attracted by him."

This was true, and Eileen Storey had sought out stamsden and asked him to dance with her. He was a good Boston pairtner, and she liked the low tones of his witty conversation. To her he was a iknowledgeable man, an up-to-date sport who "knew the ropes."

"Very well, don't disturb them, and above all don't say anything to Eileen. That poor little girl in the other room lias been doped. No, don't ask me by whom! A practical joke, perhaps. She las suffered from nose-bleeding inseparable from a green arsenical pigment. That is all.

"For this reason I am now having the wall-paper stripped as quickly -as possible from another room, and I shall put her in there, so as to remove her from all contact with that particular poison. "Arsenic," observed the doctor, Dale starting at the word, "will counteract fatigue, and is an antidote to long hours. In some parts of the world people iake it to ward off fatigue caused by jnountain-climbing.

"I surmise that she has taken about a grain and a-half, adulterated, and there is no great harm in this; but when it is mixed with a certain drug used in India, Egypt and other Eastern countries, the effects are highly dangerous, especially io one who has not the strength of an adult or an habitue to' withstand them." During this explanation of his daughifcer's- —his own daughter's seizure — the face of Yorkie Dale underwent many changes; of agony, of determination, yea! of revenge! How much did Eileen Storey know of the great secret which he was frying to hide?

"The preparations of thig other drug," Went on thej great pathologist, in a level, colourless voice, "are chang, haschisch, and gangi, I daresay you have heard of #hem.

"Addicts of this dope, which can be chewed, smoked, or taken with alcoholic liquors—in this case it was threequarters of a glass of Pommery '84, which is a pretty strong mixture —these addicts are said to have the cannibas £ndica habit.

"And that habit," said Dr. Somers, ''your daughter Eileen has hardened her'self to. She herself hag told me that she suffers from dyspeptic troubles, and I am not surprised. That statement led to my suspicions, for dyspepsia is one of the symptoms of cannabis indica.

"There is also slight anaemia in her case, and at times she does not seem any,

too reliable or truthful, which is symptomatic of drug-inebriates. Forgive my speaking bluntly."

Then, in slow words, was uttered a piece of information which in after days came back to the supposed father like the reverberation of a thunder-clap:

"Eileen's dope-taking may result, if she goes on with it, in chronic insanity or death. She may have hallucinations, and a state of madness may supervene in which criminal acts up to the point of murder may be commited."

Yorkie Dale had sat throughout the doctor's explanation, slightly bent forward, his arms on his knees, his hands clasped, his eyes staring into space— staring fixedly, his brain in a tumult of anxiety.

"One word more," concluded Dr. Somers; "and again you must forgive me for speaking plainly."

He sipped some hot water with irritating slowness, and puffed at an old finely coloured meerschaum as he resumed, looking straight at Yorkie Dale.

"You are not Albion Storey— 5

The, other sat bolt upright with a look of terror in his eyes. It was a shock which he did not expect and which sobered him for the rest of the conversation.

"Don't get scared, man," said Harry Somers with a smile. "Your nerves are bad and I shall have to give you something. Events to-night have been too much for you. Wait a minute."

He walked across the room. "Here, take this," he said, handing a glass to the trembling fingers of the pseudo Storey. "All right, sit iback, open your mouth —I'll give it to you. There! Salt, is it? Do you good —just a little bromide of potassium.

The doctor himself took some hot water, wishing Yorkie "Good health." He noticed the deathly pallor on his host's face, and his mind began to work in another direction.

What had scared the man. Had it anything to do with the weird ramblings in his' delirium^ —or with that telegram from Eileen, at the mention of whose name he always seemed to shudder?

■ "What—what were you saying, doc?" faltered the wretched Dale.

'"Nothing."" . "But..you were saying, 'You are not Albion Storey,' and then you. broke off!" "No. you broke off as though I had shot you. I was going to say, 'You are not, Albion Storey, to quarrel with your daughter. It is dangerous." "Why what do you mean, doc?" "I mean that your heart is not too strong, and, to tell you the truth, I don t think she likes to find, after being absent from her all these years, that you have taken a .ward under your care. "It is very natural," continued the doctor, watching Dale's face, "for her to take this line, and although I do not tTvi-nlr she means anything malicious towards your ward, she may, as your heiress, be jealous. "Look here, Storey," said Dr. Somers, clapping him on the back, "your ward will be well after a couple of days' rest. She is sleeping now. Let us go down and join the merry throng as though nothing had happened. "Mind you, not a cross word to Eileen. To-morrow you will have to take a bachelor's holiday in town away from all worry. Mallam and I will carry on here. Violet will be well by the time you are back—or before."

"Eh, you're right, doc,'* said his host feebly and slowly. "I must call at my Bond Street offices to see how my charities are getting on. Which reminds me — I mufit get an extra secretary. The work is too ; much for Mallam alone. Do you know of anyone you can recommend?" "Yes, go away for a week and I'll get you the very man you require by the time you come back-. Leave it to me." "Eight you are, doctor," replied Dale. "And you'll get Violet on her feet again by then, eh?" Somers nodded reassuringly, and the two men returned to the ball-room. The harassed father saw Eileen dancing with Ramsden, but he said not a word to her. He dared not because he could not trust himself not to strike her. He watched her as she circled the room, utterly unconcerned and apparently enjoying herself to the full. Choking with rage, Yorkie Dale fled from the scene.

CHAPTER XXIV. Paul Mallam Turns Thief. Paul Mallam, having seen the millionaire off in the powerful road car which was to take him to Reading, and so iby train to London, returned to. Windrush. His parting injunction to his guv'nor was, "Re careful, sir, and don't overdo it" • Yorkie Dale smiled as he waved his hand to one of the few men he felt he could trust. The worry of the night (before was still on his mind. Was Eileen to be the enemy of Violet? Had he shown himself to foe too fond of his supposed ward? He would have to be more discreet, but it was devilish hard when his affection was too real for heir. Anyhow, she would be safe for the time. Somers would look after her medically) and Paul would be ever at hand. Nice fellow, Mallam, some good stuff in that boy. If he could have followed his secretary's actions in the next hour or go this opinion would have 'been doubly strengthened.' When Paul returned to Windrush he summoned tlie housekeeper. "You know that I am in full charge here during Mr. Storey's absence," he said to her. "Yes, sir, Mr., Storey told me that." "Very well. Where is Miss Eileen?" "She is out with Mr. Ramsden, motoring," replied the housekeeper. "They said they might be late to-night." The little sniff with which the good lady imparted this information was eloquent of her opinion both of Miss Storey a-nd Mr. Ramsden. Paul nodded. "Have you duplicate keys of all the doors of this house? You have? Rring them to me please." "Also," he added, "I do not wish you to mention the fact to aliybody. Absolutely not a soul, you understand?" "I see your meaning, sir.'' Paul was writing in the library when the keys of the establishment were surrendered to him (by the housekeeper of Windrush, with tlie grudging grace of some French admiral handing over his sword to Nelson. As was his wont, Paul Mallam lost no time. He found at last the key corresponding to Eileen Storey's door, having been careful not to indicate to the chattering servant that this was the key of all keys that he wanted.

What a tragedy! A young girl like her, amusing and witty, in tlie forenoon of her life, heiress to untold wealth, born with opportunities which came to very few. A dope fiend, a rotten wreck. And she was bent on dragging others down with her—that was the curse of it. Paul quietly opened the door and went in. Immediately he detected a faint hut pungent odour and he made straight for a cupboard behind a curtain of Japanese art 'work. It was locked. In a second he had taken out the niany-blnded knife which he always carried, and in a few moments the frail cupboard lock yielded. And then What was here? From a large attache case he extracted a handful of small bottles. Though he did not know it they contained some of the most potent drugs known to medical science, and a few of them worth their weight in diamonds. A sacristy of Satan! Take a small tuibe the size of a quarter of a pencil and fill it with the finest distilled attar of roses, it would be cheap in price compared with the contents of another vermilion tube which he now held in his hand. A tube with an overpowering mysterious smell. This particular drug Paul did know. "Yosliio," he murmured, half in admiration. "Manufactured in Japan and issued .with a Place de l'Opera label from Chinatown or Whitechapei. I wonder how many pounds you paid for that!" Yoshio, dreams, beautiful dreams, for those who worshipped at the shrine of Yoshio Tanaki, the old drug of the Japanese Samurai —the love litre of ancient llome. And this poor young votress of the demon of dreams, reflected Paxil, if she were questioned would probably say (as many of us are too shy to say) that our dreams drench us in sense, and sense steeps us again in our dreams. "I have had a most rare vision," says one of Shakespeare's characters. "I have had a dream- —past the wit of man to say what dream it was." That is the way with yoshio tanaki on its innocent victims. H v Just for a moment he reflected that for this young girl dreams were the delightful excursions into the limbo of things; a semi-deliverance from the human prison. And here in his possession was the stuff of which the dreams of thousands of drug-takers were made! For a moment pity for the foolish girl entered his soul. No; he must go on with his purpose: One by one, he held up the bottles and phials for inspection. Two fountain pens he sniffed suspiciously. Each contained drugs of some sort. And so he continued relentlessly, examining the small tubes of distilled damnation with amazement and with an overwhelming sense of sadness. jWhat a museum of the devil's magic was in this small cupboard! Just a little sip or sniff and—! Morphine and laudanum and appliances for opium smoking; ether prepared from methylated spirit;'chloral-hydrate, which enfeebles the will and muscles; bromide of potassium and of sodium, and sulphonal used in lunatic asylums. Eileen Storey had enough poison in her possession to kill a regiment. His course was plain —to confiscate' the lot before she had time to do more dam-

age. 1 He gathered up the whole contents of the cupboard, hastily stuffing some of the bottles into his pockets, some into the case and others into a box. As he opened the door, a shadow fell across the evening sunlight of the passage. He knew that shadow, and the next moment he was face to face with Eileen Storey! She could scarcely speak for the rage that was burning within her. And then at last came the deluge of scorn and bitterness from the infuriated girl, that seemed to scoriate his very soul. "How dare you —you minion! You trusted servant of my father! You low sneak thief who robs his daughter behind his back!" "Miss Storey, I — I" She tilted the contours of her chin at him, darkly surveying him from under the half-closed lids of her eyes. She held him in contempt and was angry that anyone should have probed her secret. Explanations were all in vain to her. "What is the booty—the swag —that you are proposing to take away?" she inquired icily, fixing him with her eyes like an animal cornering its prey "You traitor!" ■ "You know full well what I have got, and what I mean to keep," said Mallam firmly. "Do you think," he asked, "that I could, as confidante of your father, stand idly by while you were poisoning yourself and his ward with this terrible dope ? "You do not know the sort of murderous stuff you are handling! Had Miss Dale gone on taking the dope which, you put into her champagne she might have been in a lunatic asylum or in her grave by the end of the month!" (To be continued Saturday next.)'