"The Jackal"

Manawatu Times, Volume LVI, Issue 7066, 27 January 1933, Page 9

"The Jackal"

(BY J. LINDSAY HAMILTON.)

CHAPTER XXI. (Continued.)

... Jerry laid aside the paddle. The punt remained motionless in shallow water. If he had gauged it aright, they were hidden in the marshy western fringe of the lake. No more than a hundred yards away was the wharf, but for all practical purposes it might have been a mile distant. The darkness over the waters was like a wall.

Half an hour went by in absolute silence, when suddenly to their strained ears came a sound from the direction of the river. It was like a regular and continuous series of splashes. It was growing more distinct every moment. Something was moving up-river, towards them. It ceased when almost upon them, as it seemed, and now a confused murmur of hushed voices, a gentle grinding, and the creak of stretched ropes. Silence for a short spell. Upon that followed the most curiously monotonous noise, like the shuffling and padding of bare feet. It went on interminably, never varying in intensity, never altering in direction. The Skipper was bursting with excitement. Something was going on across at the wharf. But Jerry restrained him, and, without speaking, drew his attention to the pale gleam of light in the eastern sky. The moon was rising. Already land and sky were divided by the clear dark line at the horizon.

The blackness ahead began to take form and depth. The waters of the lake picked up the pale glimmer of light. Dimly at first the line, at the wharf stood out from the surrounding darkness. Now there was no mistaking it—.some vessel or vessels lay alongside the wharf. Yes, there were two, one long, low and rakish in outline, close in to the wharf; the other lower in the water and lying alongside. It was a weird picture of silent feverish activity, for all the while there was no sound of a spoken word, only the monotonous shuffling and padding of feet.

“Unloading into a barge,” whispered Jerry. “We'll wait until it gets away. I’m more interested in the mother ship.”

They had not long to wait. The dark figures vanished, the sound of shuffling feet ceased; all was still, breathlessly still for a moment, and then came the gentle “lapping” of water as the barge began to move sluggishly away. They could just distinguish it as a dim shadowy form as It left the lake and turned upstream.

They turned again to look at the mystery -ship alongside the wharf, and Doone stifled a sudden exclamation. “It can’t be : —not in these waters,” he muttered.

“We’ll see," muttered Jerry!

Very cautiously they worked the punt out into clear water. Instead of paddling straight across, Jerry headed deeper Into the lake, where he crossed at a safe distance from the, wharf, and then began to creep slowly back on the wharf side -of the lake. A hundred yards and the sharp bows of the mystery ship loomed in the darkness.

The punt crept nearer and nearer. The vessel seemed much lower in the water. It was moving, surely it was sinking! The general conformation of it became more distinct. There was no mistaking that conningtower.

"You were right," breathed Jerry. "A submarine.”

She was submerging fast. Jerry drove in his paddle with tremendous energy'. All caution was thrown to the winds. The punt grated and bumped alongside the bows. Jerry leapt to his feet and clutched upwards. He had seen something. Out came his torch. One quiolc flash of it and the mystery that, had baffled him for so long was solved. “J.I base." It was ridiculously simple after all. This was the J.I, a submarine, and somewhere here must be J.I base. Not for nothing had the river been dredged and this wharf built. What a hiding place! She could steal up from the sea by night and lie hidden below the wharf. There might even be some secret dook below the concrete wharf. No sooner had Jerry deciphered the boldly printed “J.i” than he pushed off energetically and paddled back Into the lake edge. A portion of the conning-tower was still above the surface. It dipped lower and lower, and presently vanished completely below the waters. Jerry was galvanised at once into rapid aotiom ... "Paddle like the deuce," he cried to Doone. "We’ve got to catch that •He set to with a will, and Doone in the bows put all his skill and strength into the task. They reached the river again and set the nose of the punt upstream. But a punt Is built for comfort rather than speed, and their progress was maddeningly slow. After a few minutes Jerry saw the futility of further effort. “Pull into the bank. I’m going to run for it." ... , , It was well they' did, for before Jerry had time to scramble up the bank a barge loomed black ahead of them in mid-stream. In absolute silence they watched it pass. "Now, what the deuce 1” muttered Jerry. “Is it the same, or Isn’t it? It took half an hour to load, and they’ve been gone about twenty minutes." “What do you think the cargo was?” asked Doone. "Are they smuggling drugs into the country, do vou think?” "Might be,” replied Jerry doubtfully, "but I don’t think they would use a 'submarine. A fast launch would do the job. They could meet the coal freighters somewhere in the North Sea. After that—well, that’s another problem altogether, the method of distribution." "What do you think It is, then? "I don’t know, Skipper, but I’m making a pretty wild guess, and if I’m wrong I’ll be laughed out of the service. But I’m not wrong. I feel it In my bones." “You oan feel it anywhere you like ” laughed Doone, “but I’m none !the’ wiser. What Is that cargo? Come on, out with It.” . Jerry’s reply came with the staccato effect of a . pistol shot. “Bullion!” "Eh! What? Bui—Good God! You’re pulling my leg.” "Bullion," repeated Jerry, "from the Dresden —The Jackal’s work. I’ve got t.o move, Skipper, and damned qulo'l. Hang the cargo. We’ve got to snaffle that submarine. What tlmi

Instalment 20.

'(To be continued.)

1 is' full tide?” “About 3 a.m.,” said .Boon promptly. Jerry made a rapid calculation. “It’s after eleven now. I’ll have to steal the car and blind through to Market Appleton, see Briggs, and gei on the 'phone to Q office. If only they ve carried out those instructions .you sent off for me, we may just do it." He was already in the punt and driving hard upstream. And as he worked Jerry managed to talk Jr short quick sentences. “Just in case," he explained. “You’ll know what to do—if thing? go wrong.” “Any reason why they should?" “Not if I can help It," said Jerry. “But Jacques 'is no fool. He knows I’ve got him taped—only waiting to strike—he’ll have to get a move on." “Exactly where does Jacques oome into it?"

“Chief Agent of The Jackal, if not The Jackal himself," said Jerry, with absolute conviction. Arrived hack at the Manor, Jerry hurried straight to his own room and called 'in Scroggins. -For -some moments he wrote in fierce haste, and then handed him the result.

“Digest that carefully, Scroggins. If I don’t ring up in half an hour from the time x leave here, act, even if you have to force a way to the ’phone at the point of that murderous Jack Johnson of yours.”

Scroggins’ eyes were gleaming with unholy joy. but his tone was as politely unsurprised as ever. Jerry might have been giving him instructions about his clothes.

“Precisely, sir. I quite understand. And might I ask, Mr Jerry, if this means —er —"

Jerry interrupted with an exultant laugh. “Blood and iron, you old villain, blood and ironl A red, red river, and the whizz and hang of bullets! Your night out, Scroggins." Suddenly the door burst violently open, and Eric Doone, pale and with a look of terrible fear and anguish in •his eyes, came charging in. “Jerry 1 She’s not gone,” he cried “Helen never left Doone Manor.” “Helen —not gone I" gasped Jerry “She is here, you mean?" “She had ho Intention of leaving. At least, If she had, she changed her mind."

“Where is she?” A terrible fear was in Jerry’s heart. "Where is she. I say? Tell me, Skipper." Erio Doone passed his hand over his -eyes, like a man dazed with pain. “God knows, but -she didn’t leave of her own -accord. That’s all I can tell you. I’ve found a little book of hers on the floor of the Library. And then quite by chance I saw the scribbling on the blotting paper—a lot of lines and crosses, and so on, and Just two sentences scrawled several times: ‘l’ll stay—l won’t go.’ And the “won’t" was heavily underlined.” Jerry remained staring at him like fa figure of wax. “Jacques.!" cried Doone, with fearful ferocity. His hands opened and clenched with _ a savage snap. “I'm going to find him-—tear him to pieces, unless he tells me where she Is.”

“You gave me a promise." Jerry’s voice was harsh and commanding. “What does a promise of that sort count in these circumstances?” "That Is for me to say,” snapped Jerry. “God! You wouldn’t demand-—?" “Implfcit obedience—l must have it.” “It’s inhuman.”

"Helen must—” Jerry choked over the words—“ Helen must wait,” he cried harshly, “tor an hour or two, just an hour or two. After that, I’ll help you to tear the man's vitals out, if that will do any good.” Doone groaned aloud. “Have it your own way, Jerry," 'no muttered, and then with an effort: “I’ll keep my promise—for an hour or two; and then, God help him.” “I’m wasting valuable time.” Jerry sprang to his feet and plunged out of the room, ran down the stairs, and passed out by the side entrance into the paved court, at the hack of the Manor. With quick steps he made his way to the garage. As it happened, the door was not locked. He swung it wide open, and entering, flung himself into the driver’s seat. Switch on 1 Petrol! Now the selfstarter 1 His foot shot out, but did not reach it. Jerry never knew what 'struck him. One instant he was vitally alert, tense as a bow of steel, the next a limp inanimate figure sagging forward over the wheel. Rudolph, a large spanner In his hand, leaned over from the back of the car, and the leering grin upon his face w&s not good to see. CHAPTER XXII. The Dungeons. Took I—tock! —took! —tock. The beat of a mighty clock spanning the wilderness of stars and night. He could not see one part of it, but none the less he knew that it towered above him into the void. Somewhere In the Armament was its whirring mechanism; the solar system, the sun, the earth and planets, minute little specks of dust revolving in its vast interior. And he was below, suspended in a black eternity of space, swinging, for ever swinging. Head downwards ho was clinging to the rim of the pendulum as it hurtled through space. ' The row of its fearful velocity deafened him. The “tock! —tock I” repeated itself with explosive effect within him.

His head must burst. He must let go—sink into oblivion. Finders slipped. He was going. A violent start; the dream faded and was lost in the shadows of fantastic unreality—and Jerry beoame Immediately aware of a splitting headaohe. He lay still for a time striving to summon his scattered wits . There was something he must do, something very important. Ho tried to shake the feeling off—all he desired was to sleep—but the notion was there again, gnawing like a hungry rat; it would not be banished. The last veil of unconsciousness fell from him. He was wide awake. Now he remembered—he was in a hurry to get to Briggs at Market Appleton. Then what was he doing here in pitch darkness? He had stepped into the oar, reaohed for the self-starter. That was all he could remember. He began to guess the rest. What a simple fool to be caught like that 1