“THE GORGON.”

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume XXXXII, Issue 2764, 19 August 1931, Page 3

“THE GORGON.”

(By J. LINDSAY HAMILTON.) (Copyright).

’ He had walked the whole length >of the train at Victoria, evidently torn between the fear that it would start without him and the feverish desire to find an .unoccupied compartment 1 . \Now. he was flitting about anxiously from one spqt to another, bn tenderhooks least ■he should miss the friend he had come to meet. Cheery greetings came to Colonel Dainton’s ear on, all sides and eagerly chattering little : groups passed him. But there was no sign of Celia as yet. That, however,;did not .surprise him. ’ It was impossible to' imagine Celia bustling—calm, imperturbable .Celia. be the off the boat he told himself with a smile 1 half amused, "half irritated. Of Eden he had seen nothing. He had said he would be there, possibly by his way of getting what he wanted, he was already on. the boat. He moved aside to allow a little procession to pass. . Two stewards were bearing a stretcher, and beside it walked a • stout, motherly person. ■ whose eyes were red T rimmed with weeping.' They passed him, amid- the sympathetic murmurs of the onlookers and made*their way to an ambulance drawn up waiting.” J Just at that moment the fidgety man with the rabbity eyes ifiust needs rush across excitedly. He had his eyes fixed eagerly across the scattered crowd. No doubt he had seen his friend and feared to, lose him. An angry shout .from one of'the stewards was too- late. The man tried to stop but stumbled awkwardly and threw out an arm over the covered ' figure' on ■ the /stretcher to save himself from falling. His abject, humiliation- then was /pitiabie'.to se,e/and he slunk away de-

jectedly and was lost in the crowd. / Still no sign of. Celia and the Colonel’s patience was evaporating. Sud- . donly he felt a sharp [ug at his sleeve. He swung round quickly and found “ himself looking into a pair of timid, watery eyes. 1 Colonel Dainton regarded the stranger with unconcealed irritation. He was the man whose nervous excitement had already drawn his attention first on the train and now here, among . -ihe crowd on landing stage. Confound the man! What did he want making a general nuisance of himself. He needed someone to look after, him. Why couldn’t he speak now instead of mouthing awkwardly. ■ He would stutter and apologise and end by asking some infantile question, no doubt—perhaps about- trains or a : ' man he was looking for, a man with a bowler hat and an umbrella. 1 But ‘Colonel Dainton was too . concerned over- Celia’s, non-appearance to pay attention to the helplessness of strangers. . “Well, what is. it?’’ he snapped / coldly. ' i The.timid little man'seemed to shrink visibly.. ' - , ■“I b-beg '..your pardon,” he stammered,' “I wouldn’t trouble you if, it : weren’t so — The fact is," he plunged r on. desperately,/“I came to meet ; Colonel Dainton interrupted him im- ■ patiently. “Had you not better take your troubles to that police officer over there. 1 That’s what he is there for,” he added more kindly. ■ “But” wailed the little man, ‘.‘You d-d-don’t understand. It’s your niece.” He stopped .suddenly. “You are Colonel Dainton, 'aren’t you?” he . asked in some alarm. “My niece?” What do you know of ‘ my niece?” The Colonel’s voice held '. amazement, suspicion and a measure of anxiety. “Speak. man. I am Dainton. Who are you? What do you want to tell me?” ' “She was on that stretcher,” he blurted out, “And they’re taking her ■ away. Look!" - He pointed with extreme agitation at the ambulance which was now rapidly moving away. • Colonel Dainton leapt into unhesitating action. “You come with me'” he commanded, “I ( want, to know more about you.” And seizing his informant firmly by the arm, he began to run. ' Ah! There “/as a taxi, thank heaven. The queer stranger, with surprising agility Sprang forward and swung open the' door, and panting out an urgent ' order to the driver, Colonel Dainton stepped inside. • ' ■ . • 1 ' !■-■■■ Chapter 7.-— The Convalescent Home. As the ambulance drew steadily away from the landing-stage, a'long ' iow saloon car might have been ob? served to glide /out from a near-by .goods yard and proceed leisurely in .. The same direction. . Its occupant • was hidden from view by the partially lowered blinds, a precaution' which was effective ■ without at .the same time advertising itself as significant. , Eden, for it was he, leaped back and a gentle smile played oyer his features.- Only his eyes,, wfldly aloof, startlingly grim, presented a striking jontrast to - his general air .'of innocent amusement.

He had guessed and guessed aright But Eden’s guesswork was no ha,ppy-go-lucky plunge in the, dark. If thej had only known it, many a man nov, sewing postal bags at’ His Majesty's pleasure, might reasonably have cursed the uncanny accuracy of Eden’s guesses.

Colonel .Dainton, he had at once perceived, was being closely watched. . To thrust himself unnecessarily under that vigilance when he had reason to believe ho had so far eluded it,, would have been to invite possible failure, or, at the least, uncomfortable complications. And st he smiled. Things were going exactly as he had surmised. The simplicity of the scheme was admirable —Celia drugged by a confederate on the boat; an ambulance all ready and waiting. As for the man shadowing Colonel Dainton, he anticipated no trouble in'that quarter. He was there to provide against the possibility of any hitch in the proceedings. Moreover, he had taken his own precautions for the Colonel’s safety. Young Stevens was a bright young fellow, a little over-eager in some ways, byt quite up to. a job of that nature. .

And what next, he wondered. It was too much to hope that the ambulance would lead him direct to one of the Gorgon’s lairs. That would he too .simple altogether, and he could hardly imagine so astute an organiser taking such unnecessary risk. The ambulance had taken the road for Bournmouth. Darkness had fallen and the little saloon with side lamps only alight, - crept up within a hundred yards of its quarry. 1 . Eden leaned forward and spoke io the driver.

“You have lived here, haven't you, Hardy?- Are there any hospitals or nursing homes along this way?” he asked, i : “Only'one that I know of,” he answered. “There’s the Leaverbrook'e Convalescent Home about/a mile further on.” ' 1

“That’s about it,” Eden mused. “What could be simpler—a hospital instructed from some authoritative source to collect ’a patient from the boat. Once there, she is removed by supposed friends and the trail is lost. Infernally cool and as safe as houses.” He grinned with reluctant admiration. His surmise proved to be correct, for a few minutes later the ambulance turned sharply through 1 a large iron gateway and proceeded up the drive to a long,white building, unmistakably a hospital.: • ’

. Eden’s saloon came to a stop almost simultaneously behind the ambulance. He leapt out, and, brushing past two attendants on tile steps entered the reception hall. A tall thin-faced woman of uncertain age and commanding appearance was sharply rating a-trembling nurse. Her acid tones penetrated the hall. Eden smiled. He was in luck. -“Are you the-matron?” he asked, blandly interrupting the monologue. She turned round with majestic dignity and fixed Eden with a coldly penetrating eye. “I am,” she said slowly, "And pray, who are you?” Her manner clearly implied that his insignificance was only too apparent, but the dignity of her position demanded that she must await proof of the fact from his own lips. “Splendid,” said .Eden, cheerfully ignoring her hostility. “The patient who has just arrived is Miss Celia Rowson. Her uncle is expecting her in London to-night. Please do all you can for her. We start in ten minutes.” , The Matron raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know who you are,” she remarked frigidly. “But •I am not accustomed to take orders from strangers. If you are interested in the patient you had better return in the morning.” ■ . Eden shook his head deliberately. “No,” he said with a quiet smile, “Too late. She goes with me tonight. You want to know my authority of course. There are, too, a few questions I must i ask you—but not here.” Without another word, the Matron turned and led him to her private room. The hostility of her manner had, if anything increased, but Eden's quiet' persistance and the hint of an underlying threat in his words had decided her to hear what he had to say. . • -A few minutes later she was a badly shaken woman. Her dignity was impervious, but struggling up through to the Unruffled surfape were sigins of astonishment and alarm. “Of course, Mr Eden, I must,accept your authority, but I can’t accept your story. It is absurdly fantastic. You will find you have made a mistake. Sir Eric Desmond ,is not. the man to lend himself to. .such villainy.” “Who is-Sir Eric?” Eden asked. ’ “He is one. of our. Governors .and a most highly respected and .charming man.”

Eden looked at the telegram he held in his hand. It ran: . . “Send ambulance collect patient from Caronia, Southampton. Instructions follow. Desmond.” “A Governor of the hospital. Of course. That explains it." He made a note of Sir Eric Desmond’s address on the back of the telegram and slipped it into his pocket book. ' . t “And now<” he’ said briskly, “Let us take a look at the patient. The ten minutes is nearly up.” ’ They found Celia lying on the bed, dressed still in her outdoor garments. Under the ministrations of a nurse she had struggled back to consciousness, bill the puckered forehead and strained eyes told their own tale of the pain of her awakening. , “Good!” exclaimed Eden, eyeing her dispassionately. “I’m taking you through to London, Miss Rowson, now, right away. You must have a shocking headache and I hate to disturb you, but the need is imperative.” Celia returned his gaze critically. What she saw evidently satisfied hpr. She asked no questions. For the time she was unequal to any mental effort. She tried to raise herself and lay back with a groan. “In a fevy minutes,” she agreed wearily. . For answer Eden stepped forward with the utmost composure and slipping his arms under her, raised her gently and carried her out to the car. Celia’s eyes flashed ‘with anger, but she was too weak to resist or offer any protest against such cavalier treatment. 1 , “I might have been a sack of coal .orm piece of furniture,” she told Helen indignantly some time later. (To be continued.)