The Evil Chateau

Matamata Record, Volume XVI, Issue 1444, 24 July 1933, Page 3

The Evil Chateau

By SYDNEY HORLER.

“It would not be correct, Mademoiselle,” he muttered. How blessed and wonderful is youth. In spite of the man’s ominous presence she made a good lunch, in which fresh-ly-caught trout was the principal disn. Back in the Rolls—if the Count was so frightfully poor, how could he afford to run this wonderful car? —she endeavoured once again to get Dorando to converse, but all the man proved willing to talk about were the points Of Interest to be seen between there and Grasse. They continued along the road which the map marked out as the famous Les Gorges du Loup route. The driver stopped to allow her to alight to see the cascade, a sight designed to delight the eye of all true excursionists. There were two small charabancs unloading passengers and some of the latter “trippers” smiled as she joined the throng. How easy it would have been to have asked for the protection of thase people once she had explained that Dorando was a member of a criminal gang I She shook herself free of the tempting thought, gazed upon the wonder with Dorando still close behind her, and then walked back to the car. A stay of two hours was made at Grasse, the town of flowers and perfumes, which shows itself shyly amidst

SERIAL STORY

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charming scenery on the Southern slope of the Roguevignon, in the basin of the Mourachone. Felicity had heard a great deal of this centre of the perfumery industry overlooking the fertile plains carpetted by violets, jonquils, mignonette, tuberoses and other flowers waiting to be distilled at the various scent factories in the town. It was at Grasse that Dorando broke his spell of silence. Perhaps the scent of the flowers worked the miracle. His information proved a very mixed bagi “The former queen of England, Victoria the Good, used to stay here," ne said; “also the great English writer, Monsieur H. G. Wells has a villa in Grasse. It is said by some that Grasse goes back so far as the sixth century when it was supposed to have been established by a colony of Sardinian Jews. The Jewish influence is still strong in the town. Having made this somewhat surprising conversational offering, the darkskinned, furtive-looking chauffeur relapsed into his torirer reticence. Acknowledging the verbal gift by a nod, Felicity made a tour of the scent factory, outside of which the car had stopped.

Showing visitors round the local perfumeries is one of the chief Grasse industries. The guides have a tact

and a finesse which are irresistible. For the next hour Felicity forgot her profession and remembered only that she was a woman. Being a woman, she surrendered to the spell of the place and bought three bottles of perfume. It was not until the return journey to the Chateau was well started that she reflected: would she live long enough to use even one of the bottles? Dusk was making the light uncerU'n as the car swung in through the drns gates. There was still sufficient visibility however, for her to see a number of men standing near the entrance of the Chateau. It was only a momentary vision, for directly they saw the car turn the corner, they all quickly vanished.

But the sight, brief as It was, made Felicity reflect. The count had lied to her; he had said there was no one else staying at the Chateau. But who were these men? Her heart qulckenea its beat as she realised: they were the members of the conference de la Siagne had called —the men who had come so mysteriously In the early hours of that morning. CHAPTER XVIII. —INTO THE UNKNOWN.

“The British Foreign Secretary?” echoed Bill Matcham when he heard the news; “revolving pea-shooters, what does he mean, Stevo?” “Ask me something easier,” replied the thoroughly perplexed Heritage. “If Lord Dalrymple hadn’t said he was coming here, I should have thought it was a ruse to get me out of the hotel.”

“Us, you mean; where you go, likewise follows your Uncle William. But, look here, you can’t receive a Foreign Secretary, who’s also a Lord, in your bedroom; it simply isn’t done. We shall have to go upstairs. Benito will fix us up.”

The concierge, with the admirable adaptability of’his class, made arrangements at once. He conducted the friends to a small private sitting room on the first floor.

It was into this that a tall, somewhat shambling man of about sixty was ushered a few minutes later. But if the figure of this visitor was awkward and his clothes careless alike in matter of cut and the way they were worn, the noble head and striking face more than atoned and recompensed. Before his name and rank were known, Lord Dalrymple would have been recognised as a personage. As in the case with most truly great men, his manner was simplicity itself

“Of course, your friend may remain .at our talk, Mr Heritage,” he said seating himself after shaking hands;

(Continued m Next Column)

“It is very kind of you to receive me like this. But the truth is I have only just arrived by air—and the matter i have come about will not wait. The speaker’s body drooped from the shoulders; the man himself appeared completely exhausted. . 1 “May I get you something, sir? asked Heritage. ! “No —no, young man. Thank you , thank you.” As though the invitation acted as a reminder, he straightened himself. Stephen noticed now, as they t looked at each other, the firm set Of J the jaw. The rest of the face was j tired and fretted by lines caused eei- j ther by anxiety or overwork, but there \ was not mistaking the determination of j the mouth. This man could show an • iron will when it was do mar ’ed.

(To be Continued.)