“The Evil Chateau”

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3447, 19 November 1932, Page 6

“The Evil Chateau”

mi n HI By SYDNEY HORLER.

CHAPTER X.—THE GIRL OP SECRETS. Stephen’s one thought as he left Nicolai’s was not to let the mysterygirl out of his sight. The determination to speak to her strengthened until if became an obsession; he would know no peace until he had stood face to face with her, looking into her eyes and demanding something of the truth. He was not more than a dozen yards behind the couple, and was consequently in time to see the girl step into a wonderful Rolls, a chauffeur in horizon-blue uniform, which matched the paintwork of the car, holding open the door. The bearded man gave the driver an address before he took his scat by the side of the girl. “The Mont Fleury.” Heritage had been long enough in Cannes to be familiar with the names of most of the leading hotels. He knew that the Mont Fleury was one of those “caravanserai” patronised oy the rich and beautiful if not necessarily the good. Lords were practically three-a-penny there; one fell over them at nearly every step. Vicomtes and Barons littered the place. The Rolls shot off with noiseless silken swiftness, leaving him staring after it. Possibly it was merely his fancy, but Stephen imagined that, at the moment of th e car leaving the kerb, the girl half-turned as though she might be trying, very discreetly, to get a glimpse of someone standing on the pavement. Himself? He hoped so. Hope never did any poor devil much harm, he reflected bitterly. Before the Rolls had turned the corner, he had plunged into the road. A taxi-cab, hooting like a fiend, was making for the entrance of the cocktailbar, having evidently been summoned to take a fare away.

“The Mont Fleury—quickly 1” Heritage told the driver, and, without waiting for any reply, he swung the door open and got into the vehicle. The cupidity of the driver won the day. This Englishman was in a hurry. His experience told him that most Englishmen who came to Cannes paid well, but that those who were in a hurry paid especially well. No doubt, this one was going to lunch with a lady . . . Bien! Turning the bonnet of his rickety Juggernaut, he ignored the call of the page-boy who had just emerged from Nicolai’s and started oft in the direction of the Californie. The taxi-driver made excellent progress—so good, in fact, that the cab purled through the imposing entrance to the hotel grounds in sufficient time to allow the man who sprang from it to see the girl shaking hands on the hotel steps with her companion. Thrusting a twenty-franc note into the taxi-driver’s hand, Heritage walked forward rapidly. “Then I can expect you soon, Mademoiselle?” he heard the bearded exquisite say as he passed. “Yes —quite soon, Count. And thank you so very much for seeing me home.” “It has been an unforgettable pleasure.” He bowed over her hand, raised his hat and walked down the steps. The girl turned and looked straight at Stephen Heritage. For the latter it was an unforgettable moment —a moment that he was to recall frequently in later life; a moment, indeed, that he was never able to obliterate; a moment when the world stood still, and the mere matter of living became an ecstacy.

The girl was the first to speak. “You are a very obstinate person, Mr Heritage,” she said. “I am a very fortunate one,” ne heard himself replying, and wondered how Providence had given him the sense to utter such words. Her eyes met his, and for a marvellous moment, held them. It seemed to Stephen that he would become drowned in their cool depths. With an effort he came out of the trance. “I apologise for being a nuisance, but I must speak to you. There is so much I have to say . . . But you haven’t lunched; I will wait —if I may.” Back behind him the crowd of cosmopolitan idlers, pleasure-seekers, and who-knew-what were strolling languidly in one direction. “It’s unforgiveable to pester like this, but ” She performed what to Heritage was a miracle. She smiled up at him, saying: “Now that you’re here, you had better lunch with me.” The same kindly Providence which had guided his tongue before came again to his aid. “You are more kind than I could have believed.” “Whilst you are annoyingly obstinate —but you shall have your lunch before I indulge in any further upbraidings. Do you mind hurrying? The hotel is very full.” Stephen was barely conscious of having his bat and coat taken by a uniformed servant, of walking side by side with the girl through a huge and elaborately - decorated dining-room, quizzed at by several hundred eyes . . . and then he was sitting opposite her. The wonder of it! She was so near that by stretching out his hand he could have touched the warm magic 'of her flesh . . . He was incapable of speech. Perhaps the girl, with the same infinite

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understanding she had already shown, realised this, for she took upon herself the ordering, merely saying at the end, “I hope you approve?” “Of course—anything.” He felt a boor now because the words had been gulped. Once again came a dream-state. He imagined that this table for two, set in the corner was utterly remote from the rest of the world —certainly remote from that chattering, vividlongued crowd which filled the great salon. Unbelievable luck was his; he, a shabby nonentity, a person completely without quality of any kind, was receiving the favour of a great lady—small as had been his knowledge of the world, he knew instinctively that this girl had been born, reared, and was still living in the purple. She was an aristocrat of aristocrats, a thoroughbred of thoroughbreds. That was the reason, of course, why she had been able to meet this peculiar situation with ease instead of embarrassment; and why, even if it was not sincere —and how could he hope it to be? She had extended to him a frank sense of comradeship. The food, no doubt, was delightful, but Stephen could not have told what he ate or what he drank. Enchanting as it was to be allowed to sit opposite this girl in the intimacy of a meal, yet he longed for solitude and the opportunity to speak freely and without restraint. It seemed that that time would never come. But, because there is an end to everything, the lunch finished at last. “I never drink coffee for lunch, but you would like to smoke, I know," said the girl; “we will go into the grounds.” Five minutes later they were sitting side by side in two deck-chairs in a spot so secluded that they might have been cut off from the rest of Cannes. “And now,” asked the girl, puffing the cigarette which he had lit for her —“Oh, by the way, my name is Howard —Felicity Howard.” “Thank you,” he replied, and then became silent. For two reasons. The first was that the beauty of her hands fascinated him, and the second was that now he had the chance there was so much to say that he did not know where or how to begin. “You will think I am the worst kind of fool —but you bewilder me,” he said at length; “you see, I have never been privileged to speak to anyone at all like you before. I think you are wonderful.” Now it was Felicity who said “Thank you.” She meant it. She was perfectly sincere. This was the fullest, the most perfect compliment, she decided instantly, she had ever been paid. The tribute had been so spontaneous that the speaker could scarcely have realised what he was saying. She looked at the man. The impression that he had been born a gentleman was confirmed. His clothes were shabby, but they were worn in that unmistakable manner which only an inner and unconscious intuition can give. The brown shoes when new had borne a famous name. They had grown old gracefully and with good taste. “I owe you some money,” she heard him say. He put his hand into a pocket. “You have been to the Tables again?" “No.” He shook his head. “Will you allow me to bore you for a minute, Miss Howard? This morning, after receiving your wonderful help, 1 ran across an old friend. He used to be a clerk at a newspaper office where I once worked, but now he is rich —an aunt he had never heard of left him the fabulous sum of £40,000 —" “Was that the man I saw with you at Nicolai’s this morning?” she inquired.

“The same.” “Will you give him a word of warning from —well, one who knows?” “From you?” “Yes.” He fumbled. “I have no right, no shadow of right, of course . . . it is the most terrible presumption—but—” “You needn’t be afraid,” she encouraged. He mustered all his courage and looked straight into the eyes that were the colour of massed bluebells. “It hurts to think you ‘know’ —” She smiled —and the glory of the sunshine was in that smile. “That is idealism —and idealism is rather out of place in the Riviera, Mr Heritage. However, to reassure you, let me just say that the man with crutches and the woman who was endeavouring - to charm you and your friend this morning are well-known card-swindlers. They specialise in newcomers to (he town.” “I had already been told about them by a local journalist—a correspondent for one of the London newspapers.” “Then you will be able to warn your friend yourself. Now about this money; I sent it to you because I was afraid you had lost money at the Tables and it was necessary that you should leave Cannes.” “I intend to stay,” he said. “I should like to ask you a thousand questions, but perhaps, as you have been so kind, you will permit just one?” “Ask it first,’ she parried. With the words a curtain seemed to Stephen to drop between them. Perhaps he had already presumed too much, but—“l believe you yourself are in danger here. Are you?"

She asked a question in turn. “Was that why you stayed instead of leaving Cannes immediately?" “Of course,” he said. “I’m a presumptuous ass, aren’t I?” She threw away the stub of her cigarette. “If things were different, if I were the ordinary sort of person, I mean, you would be the type of man I should rather like to have as a friend. Can I say more than that?” “You honour me,” he said, and ay the tone he used he honoured her. “Isn’t it possible now?—just to fetch and carry you know; to wait about; never to presume, I promise. But first, won’t you answer my question? You see, I tried to get through again to you on the telephone but the Exchange said they couldn’t trace the call.” “The telephone service in Cannes isn’t very enterprising.” She continued quickly: “Mr Heritage, I am honoured by your confidence, but I am serious when I say that you must leave here at once. There is a train for Calais at 3.22. Won’t you catch it:” “I hate for you to think me still obstinate —but why should I go?” “You found a dead man outside the Casino last night.” “Yes.” She had started this subject herself. How much would she tell? “That man was murdered. He was an Englishman holding a very important position. Don’t ask me how I know; it is sufficient to say that my information is correct. The police suspect you. Of course, it is ridiculous “The naan was dead when I reached him.” “I know. The murderer was the man who ran off as you approached. I told the Commissaire that.” “You told him?” “Yes. You see, the dead man was a friend of mine. I cannot tell you more than that, but if the Police should come to question you—” “I shall be ready for them.” “It would bo much wiser if you left Cannes. Your passport is in order?” “Quite. But,” firmly, “there are equally strong reasons why I should slay here.” “Yes?” ’’One is that I’m not taken with the idea of running'away; a second is that I’ve given my word to my friend Mateham to stay with him, and the third —well, the third is the most important of the lot.” The girl placed her hand on his arm. “If that third reason happens to concern me in any way, Mr Heritage, L should prefer you to eliminate it. Believe me, it would be much better u you did.” While he looked at her, she went on: “I hinted just now that I was not I lie ordinary type of person. That is true. I am unable to enlarge upon this further than to say that I must refuse, gratefully but firmly, any suggestion of help which you might be prepared to make to me. You sec, I am speaking quite frankly.” “Why do you refuse?” he asked. “Because my acceptance in all probability would place you in a position of tremendous peril. No,” she added quickly, “I am not exaggerating; you are in danger now, but it is nothing

compared to the risk I refer to.” “Why should you expose yourself to this danger?” “Because it comes in my job,” said this girl of secrets. “You cannot tell me more than that?” “I regret it is impossible. And now I am afraid I must go.” She stood up, holding out her hand. “You have forgotten the five thousand francs,” said Heritage, handing her the money. “Somehow, I think we shall meet again, Miss Howard. In the meantime, thank you for being so kind.” He found Bill Matcham sitting in the sunniest spot in the Chester grounds. “Where in the deuce have you been?” was the first question. “Paying back a debt.” Matcham whistled. “So it was the girl! I thought as much. You can’t deceive your Uncle William! But, I say, Stevo—” He hesitated. “Out with it.” “I should watch your step if I were you. Take the well-meant advice of Grandad dozing in the sun. Your divinity keeps strange company, my lad. The merry lad with the crutches knows quite a lot about, the gentleman with the beard and I overheard some of it. That was why I pretended to be so matey. According to our prospective host this evening, the Bearded One runs a house which it’s easier to get into than out of —Castle Despair isn’t in it with the Chateau of the White Wolf. Why—what’s the matter, old son?” He leaned forward solicitously, for Heritage had groaned. A memory, painful and horrific, had returned to Stephen. He recalled the words lie had overheard at the Hotel Mont Fleury scarcely two hours before. Felicity Howard had said something about seeing this man again soon. At his chateau? (T® be continued.)