THE PHANTOM CAR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 16205, 15 April 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE PHANTOM CAR.

-■ BY JAMES McELDERRY, Author of " The Veil of Circumstance," etc

COPYRIGHT. CHAPTER m- (Continued.) . " Oh, Symes," Boughton said, nodding to him, " I want you, instead of following out the instructions I gave you, to do your best to discover every movement of M. Eysdel's from tho moment he arrives. To know everything he does, everywhere he without either he himself or anyone who is with him being conscious that you are taking this interest in Scholzian affairs. You understand? Take no notice of what I may do—M. Eysdol is your man."

Tho detective twisted his straggling moustache. Exactly, sir," he said. " I will do it." " I do not think you will," said Boughton, smiling. " But I' want you to try." " Then 1 will do my best, sir," said*the man, with a puzzled expression on his face, as ho continued his pacing up and down in the shadows. Shall 1 put Thompson on to that man with the red tio beside the Koko advertisement, sir? I have been watching him. and I fancy ho is a good deal interested in the arrival of this train, and in you, sir." "No. Thompson will havo his hands full. Better 'phone through for another man. You'll have time to get him here | before the train tun.s up." ' Boughton did not look at tho man with the red tie. In another five minutes it would be safe to risk a casual glance, he decided but not before. But before the five minutes had expired, the man jostled against him, and Boughton was convinced that he had never seen him before. He made a mental note of the salient points of tho man's appearance— things that disguise would least successfully hide—and therefore deliberately avoided him. At last M. Eysdel's train was signalled, and shortly afterwards tho Scholzian ambassador himself .stepped out on to the platform. He had wished that no notice should bo taken officially of his arrival, and with the exception "of Boughton there was no one there to meet him; but Boughton, who had been furnished with both a photograph and a description, had no difficulty in recognising him. He waited until the ambassador s servant had collected his luggage, and then accosted him.

"M. Erode], I believe?" he said, presenting his card.

The ambassador, glancing casually 'at the card, nodded. " It seemed to me," ho said haughtily, "that I had made it sufficiently clear to your superiors that I did not wish for this thing— indeed, any notice whatever to be taken of my arrival. It appears, howover, that I was-mistaken. I wish you good-night, Mr.-Mr. Boughton, is it?' As he spoke he turned on his heel, addressing a few words to his servant, and then mado in the direction of the taxicab., Boughton followed him, flushing slightly at the rebuff. " Your pardon. M. Eysdel," he said in excellent Scholzian, "but certain information has come to us which has mado this courso necessary for your personal safety." , , The ambassador looked at him dubiously. " I do not understand, Mr. Boughton," he said,' biting his moustache " Do you mean an English plot to kill mo( " Less a plot than a probability, I believe, monsieur," Boughton replied. ' I think I may say that my countrymen are hardly likely to' have a hand in it." The ambassador smiled. " Very well, verv well, Mr. Boughton, ho said indifferently. " You intend, precisely and exactly, as you put it?' " To accompany you, a friend or servant, as you will, so long as you remain in this country; or at least until your business is concluded and my responsibility ends." . , , , " But you* do not seriously ask me to change my plans as to my disposal of my time in the meanwhile?" "On the contrary, M. Eysdel. I myself shall be spending the night with my friend, Mr. Gort." The ambassador opened his eyes. " So 1 " he said. *' Then I presume you have made arrangements for my journey. I am infinitely obliged. This London always bewilders people who, like myself, are accustomed to order instead of chaos. Boughton, thinking of Scholzia, smiled to himself, but ho led the way without speaking to his chief's motor-car, which was waiting outside the station, giving a rapid glance about, him as ho did so. The man with the red tie seemed to have disappeared, or at least was not in evidence Symes, however, could bo trusted to see that he received the- attention he merited. , ... " We will take the luggage with us—on top of the car, M. Eysdel, I think," said Boughton. " Your servant can share the chauffeur's seat, or ride with us, as you choose." . ~.,.. The ambassador pointed to the front seat, spoke to this man, and a moment later thev were off. M. Eysdel-a tall, thin, cadaverous man, with a small black pointed beard of the Van Dyck manner—at once selected the seat from which be could survey the traf-

fie following them, and he was not slow to notice that as they started another car, which had been drawn up immediately behind them, glided down the steep hill and under the sombre railwayarch in their wake. He puckered his brows, ran his beard through his hand, lit a cigarette, and then called Boughton's attention to it by means of a contraction of his eyes.

" One of our men," Boughton explained. "If anyone pursues, yon see, everything is provided. We are really very .solicitous for your safety, M. Eysdel."

" But I don't understand how the second car—"

" Oh, it merely saves us the trouble of watching to see "whether we are followed that is, at present." The huge limousine whirled on, turning and twisting, flashing out into the glitter of well-lighted streets, diving every hero and there into the recesses of darkling slums. It soemed an age before they crossed the water, and another before they found themselves in Piccadilly. How they turned and twisted even Boughton himself did not know. M. Eysdel, sitting silent on his seat, remarked once : " A long journey among houses, monsieur, and a strange one surely?" Otherwise, neither spoke. But in Piccadilly a car ranged alongside them, raced level a few yards, and then Boughton. glancing back, pulled the sliding door of the car in which they rode, and, reaching out, opened the door of the car beside them.

" Follow me. M. Eysdel," he shouted, leaping into the second car and holding the door back. The ambassador, hesitating a moment, fingered a revolver which he canned in a somewhat conspicuous position, and then j leapt lightly across. For another hundred yards the car containing M. Eysdel's luggage and his servant kept exact pace with them. Then it forged ahead and swerved off into Albermarle Street, and at the same instant the car that had fol- t lowed them from the terminus bore off to' the left and likewise disappeared. The Scholzian, panting slightly from his exertion, turned amazed and somewhat indignant eyes upon his companion. "Perhaps, Mr. Boughton," ho said frigidly, "you will be good enough to explain." "It is very simple, M. Eysdel," he said. " I have the strictest instructions, and have, personally, a great interest in your safety, since any failure on my part to circumvent the attack we fear would certainly spoil the end of my career. I arranged for that car to como alongside, and for the car that followed us to screen us who» we changed vehicles. Now, if anyone was pursuing tracking us, you understand—they will be very clever if, out of the three vehicles, they select this. Your luggage and your man will lie at Gort House very little after you, if not

before. It was all absurdly easy to arrange. I deliberately put the cleverest man in London on to track us. I believe he has failed but I shall know for certain soon."

fho ambassador smiled sardonically. " And do you propose to continue tnceo tricks, Mr. Boughton, all the time I am in the country?" " No. Once you arrive at Gort House I shall have no qualms until you set out for town to-morrow. Then I may have to do something similar." Twisting and turning, the car whirled on, until at last it dived with a sudden rush into Marylebona. Then, as Boughton jumped out and snatched a- couple of tickets from a man who was waiting at the wieket-gato: "Quick, M. Eysdel!" he said; "if we loso three seconds we miss our train."

CHAPTER IV. J THE SPORT OF KINGS. March, coming in like the proverbial lion, with harsh and bitter days of frost and snow and biting winds, seemed, at the end of a week, to have spent her spleen and anger, and warm days of sunshine, setting in, thawed the ground and flushed it with a promise of spring. Robbed of their amusement by half-a-dozen abandoned meetings, racegoers who had never before found their way to Kaveston Park sinco the course had been opened thronged in their thousands to witness the new Grand National Vaso; the race that was this year to take the place of the absurdly misnamed Trial Grand National Steeplcchaso. Men and women who attended none of tho winter meetings with tho exception of Aintree had decided to go to the easily-acces-sible Kaveston and this year to miss Liverpool for the first time. There was a representative entry for the Vase. Half the National horses were in it; two or three "dark" outsiders; and half a dozen horses who ought to have been entered for Liverpool, but for some inexplicable reason hadn't been while the supreme confidence of several of the best stables in their charges promised an exciting finish over fences that were little less stiff than at Aintrce—always providing a goodly number of " leppers" stood up after tho first two rounds of the course. It was here that opinions were divided. "Rotten lot of fences,- my boy," said one, " except for the Brook. And, mark my word, there won't be a horso left standing after they've put their noses to that. No business to have been left there. Stewards don't know their work. If we'd got a few real tip-toppers it'd be different. But there's not a decent jumper in the cougtry-aud hasn't been, roy boy, since

Muzzle-Loader won the National in ninety-what-was-it with his eyes''shut and his jockey half asleep and thinking he was at home in an armchair." '.

This was Sir Giles Dagnell, who had owned Muzzle-Loader and had been racing for 50 years; facta that should have given his opinion a certain authority. His companion, however— man 20 years his junior— pityingly. «' " The Brook's nothing to the Bushes', Giles," he said. "And Telepathy, in my opinion, would have given Muzzle-Loader* half the course and a beating. You don't use your eyes— your head— tho way you used to, Giles. Telepathy, Counterplot, Irish Whisky, Dreadnought—the best lot of horses we've seen in the country as yet. Don't talk to me about degeneracy. Fences weren't so stiff in MuzzleLoader's day as they are now, you know." » Sir Giles snorted contemptuously.

1 " I'll lay you twenty to twelve— thousands—that Telepathy don't stand- up through the second round, Gort, my boy," he said, biting his grey moustache.

" It's a temptation— should be simply taking your money, Gilesbut I've done my business over Telepathy, and I couldn't find another farthing if I lost. You see, I'm honest with you. Otherwise, I'd be glad to pick up your money. Ah, Kitty, I've been hunting all over the place for you." "Then I can only say that appearances did not suggest it, father." And Kathleen Gort, shaking hands with Sir Giles, laughed lightly. "I fancy that if I hadn't found you your search wouldn't have met with much success this side of the last race."

Old Sir Giles removed his eyeglass, passed his handkerchief over his ruddy face, and then stared at the girl again.

" God bless me, child he exclaimed after a moment, replacing the glass, "do you know that you're tho most beautiful woman I've come across since I met your mother. There was a woman I met when I was in Italy— Torrid something or other they called her— bless my soul, she couldn't have held a candlo to you, my dear. Eh, Gort ? You met her, didn't you?"

Luclan Gort, who did not relish the comparison, laughed awkwardly, and then looked with a new interest at his daughter, who had flushed under tho old man's compliment. " Suppose," ho said, " we make for the enclosure. I see the numbers are up for the first race."

Sir Giles snorted.

" And neglect a pretty woman for a wretched lot of hurdlers he said. " No, thank you. Come along, my dear. You're dying to see the jumps, and we'll just have time to get round them before the start for the Vase. Your father and I< have just been quarrelling over them, and we want your opinion."

" I see. And you begin by bribing the arbitrator—using flattery instead of gold Well, I promise you vou sha'n't gain by that. And although I know you don't care the least bit for my opinion, I should like to see the jumps; only I haven't a horso, and we couldn't possibly get round on foot in the time." •

Sir Charles, a massive figure of some six feet odd, raised himself on his toes elastically, looking to right and to left of him, and then waved one of his arms frantically. / ' There's my daughter's hack—she's coming—seen us at last. I've two up by the paddock— bring one for somebody to go round on." Kathleen looked at him gratefully. " But perhaps Lady Kellington hasn't been round!" she said, doubtfully. Lady Kellington, drawing rein at that instant, dispelled any doubt. " How d' do, Mr.'Gort! Didn't see you, Kathleen. Jolly day, ir.n't it?" Sho was a huge woman, little shorter than her father, and a great deal stouter, and her plump face, set in a perpetual 1 smile, fell into creases that made her look older than she was; but sho sprang off her horse with all the agility of a young child. % " Well, father, you want my horse for Miss Gort ? Ain't I clairvoyant I saw it in your eyes, you know. I've been round with Mr. Stockvis. The jumps are rotton—playthings. Muzzle-Loader 'd have jumped them in his sleep." She winked solemnly at Gort, and then handed the reins to Kathleen. Give him a smart gallop, my dear. ■ I'm getting old, and can't take it out of him enough. I'm going to get a drink. I'll tell Newton to send down your horses at once, father." " Wonderful how she keeps her youth, Giles," said Gort, when she had gone. Sir Giles knitted his brows gloomily. " Kellington 'a talcing a deuced—l beg your pardon, my dear—a very long holiday. Stockvis' Stockvis, she said. I don't like it. I won't have it, Gort. I won't have it!"

" A good fellow, Giles—a good fellow. If-" Gort broke off hurriedly, nodding towards a number of men who were walking in the direction of tho enclosure. » Good day, Stock vis. See you this evening. Good day, Wilmot. How d' do, Masefield One of them approachtd, raising his hat to Kathleen. "Ah, Sir Giles," lie said. "It does one good to see you—the embodiment of life. Ripping day! Running anything?" Sir Giles readjusted his eyeglass. "Eh? Eh? Speaking to me, sir?" Ho favoured the.speaker with a glassy stare.' .

"You cbn't remember me, Sir Giles? We met at the Marquis of Missenden't place—last shoot, you Know." Sir Giles' face cleared, though he did not relax his glassy stare. "Ah!" he said. "Yes! Yes! To tr sure. A fellow there shooting 'em off the barrel of his gun, wasn't there—rotten lot of sportsmen, some of them. Mr. Brown, I believe? How d' do, Mr. Brown?" The other smiled easily. "Stockvis, Sir Giles—Franz Stockvis. I jshot next to you." " Good day to you, Mr. Stockvis!" Sir Giles moved on, leaving Stockvis scowling. "We shan't have any too much time to get round, my dear," he said to Kathleen, taking her by the arm. " Coming, Gort?" Lucian Gort, after a word to Stockvis, hurried after them. " Now, why did you do that, Giles?" he asked, when they were out of earshot. "A good fellow, Stockvis— good fellow, you know." « "No doubt, Goi't—no doubt— those who like him. But a bounder, if you ask me. You'd better get up, my dear. 1 suppose you can manage in those clothes?" "I think so, Sir Giles."

He stopped to help her into the saddle, and then took his own horse from the man who had just come up.

' "Take the roan, Gort—he'll hardly carry my weight nowadays." In a moment they were galloping in the direction of the jumps. " I don't understand you, Giles," Gort said as they started. "He's a good sportsman, and all that, and I've never heard a word against him." "Umph!" grunted Sir Giles. "I saw Counterplot run at his first two outingsfiddling races—before he picked up the big steeplechase. That horse, my dear boy, could have ran fat enough for a fat-stock show and still won those races if he'd been meant to. I know."

Well," said Gort, dropping the subject, "Counterplot's running fit enough this afternoon, and mine—" "Isn't," interrupted Sir Giles. "And Kappy can't get him fit by Liverpool. He s 'as fat as a pig. Kappy showed him to me. He's the wrong sort to come on quickly, is Telepathy." " With the Atom up he'll win this Vase and the National, fat or not?" said Gort, laughing. "Pah!" And Sir Giles cut his horse savagely with his whip. "I've backed Counterplot for a mint of money to beat him both times." "Then you'll lose it, Giles—though Counterplot's the only horse we have to fear-

They rode on in silence for some time, •topping only to examine the obstacles, and Sir Giles noticed that Kathleen's dark

and usually sparkling eyes were heavily lidded and, he thought, dull and a little frightened. Presently he met her eyes squarely,' and asked a question without speaking; and Kathleen said at once, addressing her father: " And are you really going to run that awful Telepathy again'.' That awful brute!"

Sir Giles caught a note of pain in her voice, and, searching his memory, understood. "Ah, Gort would not run him if the Atom were not here 'to ride, my dear child. He is quite safe, though no other jockey could be." Gort laughed. "Yes, Sir Giles is right, Kathleen. You need have no fear for the Atom."

" Did you not say that last time, father —before the—the. accident happened ? How do you know that you are right now ? I should' never forgive myself if there was another— accident." She turned pleading eyes on Sir Giles. " Ah, can't you persuade him to scratch Telepathy—even now, Sir Giles?" The old man looked away from her. Presently ho said " I would do a good deal for you, my dear; but I'm afraid I couldn't do that. You don't understand; but it wouldn't be fair to the public. One has to consider them a good deal nowadays." "Kathleen!" Gort's voice was sharp and irritated. " When I tell you it is all right, you may understand that it is so. And, far from being an awful brute. Telefathy is the best horse I have ever owned, believe him to be the best horse in England at the momenta— be tho Best horse that has been seen out for a good many years. The best horse I have owned—or , ever shall." i Sir Giles let his glass drop from his eye- " Does that mean that you are giving up—giving up, Gort?" Gort nodded.

"Yes. After the National. These two" races mean everything to me. If I win I shall scrape through—just float, old fellow—providing I can sell Telepathy well and the others moderately." "Good Lord!" Old Sir Giles snapped the words out viciously and as if in anger. Then, suddenly,, he reached out his hand, reining an. " Eh, but I'm sorry—awfully sorry, Gort." Then, seeing that Kathleen had ridden on: "Gort, is it serious? Has Stock vis—you understand?" • Gort's upper lip stiffened a shade. "I shall jus Moat, old friend," he said, "if _ Telepathy wins the Vase and the National. I shall just float.". Sir Giles snorted, and rode on a little way in silence.

(To bo continued on Saturday next,)