The Evil Chateau

Matamata Record, Volume XVI, Issue 1445, 27 July 1933, Page 7

The Evil Chateau

By SYDNEY HORLER

“I will not waste your time, Mr Heritage. I have come to Cannes to take home the dead body oi' my sou. I understand that ycu were the person to discover him shortly after ho had been murdered.” Stephen stared. =A“Was the man I found outside the •Casino your son, sir?” “Yes. Please give me what information you can.” Heritage told his story as simply and as concisely as possible. “I do not know if the local police have already gone to the bank ,sir, but if not the money will still be there. lam sorry for' having destroyed the, ■wallet.”

“You have no suspicion who committed the crime? You were not able to see the man who ran away sufficiently well to be able to recognise-him again ?” “Unfortunately, no, sir.” “Then I will not trespass any further on your time. When next you are in London, I shall be pleased to see you again. My address is 126 Berkeley Square.” Bill Matcham, previously abashed by the presence of such a notability, now spoke.

“The local police seemed to think, sir, that Heritage may have had something to do with the —crime. You can take it from me —”

“Such a suggestion is palpably apsurd,” was the answer; “1 will convince thern that they are wrong.” Heritage had returned from seeing the visitor into his car at the hotel entrance, he looked at his companion :

SERIAL STORY

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“This thing gets rummler and rummicr,” he muttered. Mateliam s reply was shrewd. “You've made one good friend through it, anyhow," he said; “and I hat’s Lord Dalrymple. I thought he would ask you a lot more questions than he did. What would you have said if he had wanted to know anyIhing about that girl, for instance?” “I should have told him the truth, e? course, but I’m glad he didn't.” “Why? It would have relieved you of a great deal of responsibility.” Heritage put his hands on the other’s < broad shoulders. ] "It’s that responsibility I want, Bill; do you feel like a trip into the mountains to-morrow?” “You mean you're going to call on the Count de la Siagne?” - “Just that, Bill.” It was Benito who supplied the information—but he did so with a grave face after being pledged to secrecy. Matcham’s comment was characteristic. “If I'm to be murdered to-morrow I may as well get to bed early.” “One goes to Vencc, Monsieur, and the Chaleau is some miles further on —not towards Gourdon and Grasse but straight up into the mountains. It is lonely country and —” “You can speak quite frankly, Benito.”

“Perhaps I ought not to say anyIhing more. It is ] erhaps merely idle gossip that I’ve heard." “Weil, never mind —let us hear it.” “The Chateau de la Siagne has not (no good a reputation; that was what ■ was about io say. Monsieur*.”

“We shall be able to find that out for ourselves, Benito, for wc have been asked to call.” This was a lie, of course, but it was impossible to tell the concierge the truth. “We shall be coming hack here,” put. in Matcham; “although we don’t know exactly when, so keep our rooms." “Certainly, Monsieur.” Benito, good

fellow that he was, seemed about to make another remark, but contented himself with bowing before turning away to see to the morning post which had just come in. “Oh, Benito," called Heritage. “Monsieur?” “Where can I buy a revolver?” The eyes of the concierge opened a trifle wider, but he was ready enough with the answer. “There is a very good gunsmith in the Rue des Etats Unis, off the Rue d'Antibes,” he said. It was ..to this shop that the friends iirst made their way after leaving the hotel. The morning was bright and sunny, and the popular street leading to the Croisctte 1 was thronged. Out of the fifty pounds which Mutcliam had persisted in loaning him, Heritage purchased a serviceable-look-ing Smith-Wesson which the shopkeeper recommended, and a quantity of ammunition for both this and Mat- i cham’s revolver.

“And now—what?” asked Matcham, as they strolled towards the sea. “My proposition is that we go back to the Chester, pack a few things and get to Vence in time for lunch. We can go either by private car or by one of the charabancs.” They were outside one'of the many tourist agencies at the time.

“Private car,” decided Matcham: “for one thing it will he quicker ami for another we shall feel that we arc not being spied upon. In a charabanc the bloke sitting in front or back may have a bottle of prussic acid all ready to hand. Benito can see to the ordering of the car.” By eleven o’clock they wore off. the concierge standing on the hotel steps and waving a response to Bill's farewell.

j “It’s funny to think that I may never ' see that cove again,” commented Matcham, as the car took the corner into the Rue St. Nicholas. “I hate bringing you into this, Bill,” said Heritage. “That’s more than enough of that,” was the quick response. An hour’s quick travelling through some country which would have appealed to them as being picturesque if their thoughts had not been occupied with other things, brought them to Vence, a town which Matcham on account of its size, immediately summed up as being “one horse” in spite of the fact that Heritage told him it was i favourite spot for artists. “Artists!” Bill snorted; “I want lo eat I”

They were served an excellent lunch at a small hotel, and it was over this meal that they talked of their plans. “We can’t decide anything definite until we get on the spot," said Heritage. “If we could reckon on the Count not recognising us, we might

pretend to be stranded travellers and

ask for a night’s hospitality. But that would sound a bit thin, perhaps, in any

case—and we should have to have a car.”

“Why?” “Well, I shouldn’t think this was much of a country for walking tours.” “And yet you say It’s a hot bed of artists! What do artists do but walk? Why, they’re too poor to do anything else.”

“Have it your own way, Bill. I quite agree that we didn’t want that driver hanging round, hut it still seems to me that a car might be useful. I can drive —a bit.” “So can I—a bit. But with these roads. . . . I’ll tell you what; we’ll tell this fellow —at least you will—that we’re Interested in local architecture. Ask him if there are any chateaux worth seeing round these parts.”

“I’ll put it a little less crudely than that,” grinned the other, as he beckoned lo the proprietor, who was waiting on them in person. Several minutes’ volubility on the part of the hotel keeper and then with a final bow and smile he withdrew, “We’ll have some wine of the house with ihc oid boy and then be off,” said F ieri I age. “Has lie given you full details of Ihc route march?”

•'Yds —roughly. The road is fairly straight, he says, all the way to the Chateau, and as long as the light holds which will be for another four hours yet at least, we ought not to go wrong.” The fine old brandy, served in the uriously large glasses, acted as a mo,] finish to the meal, and they wished the hotel keeper a cheery bonjour. When his guests had gone, the man summoned his wife by vigorously clapping his hands. “Where do you think those two young Englishmen are going, Celeste?” tie said; “to the Chateau de la wagne !” His wife crossed herself x “May the good Saints preserve them," slic replied fervently; “did you not sav a word of warning?” “It is their affair; who am I to offend a gentleman like the Count de la Siagne?” “V.'s." agreed his wife slowly, “It is their affair: and we have to live.” Bir. she crossed herself a second time. (To be Continued.)