"MYSTERY ISLAND."

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20252, 11 May 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)

"MYSTERY ISLAND."

BY PALMER WHITE.

CHAPTER T. IN WHICH A NORMALLY SILENT CJENTLE- *' .MAN MS INDUCED TO OFFER AN OPINION. A big cheery open fire crackled in the smoking room of tho Northern Club in ■Princes Street. Partly obscured by a thick cloud of cigar smoke of their, own making, four men sat in front of the fire yarning away tho odd hour after dinner, when the lull in tho noiso of traffic boro witness to tho fact that Auckland's eminently respectable night life had not yet commenced.

Three of the men were obviously of the professional class; alert, clean shaven individuals whose dress and manner bore the unmistakable stamp of success. Tho one nearost tho fire on tho left was Ronald Barstow, L.L.M., tho best barrister in the city and one of tho leading men of law in tho whole of New Zealand. A brilliant fellow, Barstow, for although barely thirty four years of ago, he had ,won several very notable cases, and had earned tho commendation of every judgo beforo whom ho had appeared by the masterly manner in which lie conducted his defences, and the general- brilliance of his work.

An athletic fellow, 100. A fine swimmer, and more than an average boxer. Tall, straight and muscular, ho could not bo denied the perfectly fit body, which, so wo aro told, is the complement of the healthy mind. A pleasant, somewhat studious face and crisp, brown hair completed a very pleasant personality.

Tho second from the left was Wallace Brookwood, a consulting electrical engineer with a large practice. A small, somewhat wizened, reserved man, with a wonderful grip of his work, and once you v.rre successful in prising open the shell cf his reserve, you would! find him an interesting, even, charming companion, although somewhat inclined to talking shop.

The third v\,as Stoney Weston, the manager of the largest bank in the city. A cheery soul, Stoney, with a genial manner and a reputation for being the hardest manager in Auckland when it came to granting overdrafts. Hence the dcscripli vo soubriquet.

The man seated 011 tho extreme right of the group was Oscar Remington, who appeared 011 tho club books as retired, and who was, in the eves of liis fellow members, somewhat of a mystery. Ho had joined the club sonic eight months beforo and made it his residence while in Auckland. His movements were always irregular. Sometimes he would

stay at the club for a fortnight, disappear for three weeks and return to spend three or four days before dodging off

again. " A queer bird, Remington," was the general opinion, but an opinion backed by nothing stronger than surmise, for

Remington was, without exception, the least communicative man at *he club.. Of ari evening he would sit in tho smoking room and read. Sometimes it would Lo a novel and sometimes he would remain immersed in the study of the contents of a np to book, answering anyone who spoke lo him with the briefest of replies. Then, quite suddenly, he would get up and withdraw himself to his room, ostensibly to retire for the night. 31 is appearance was just as extraordinary as were his maimer and habits. He had a short

squarcbuilt, muscular body and long powerful arms which seemed far . too lengthy for the short torso to which they were attached. The kind of body which by all the laws of the. game should have been surmounted by a-wide, bullet head and a hard, bold face. But Remington's head would have struck even the most casual observer as being singularly out of place on such a burly, muscular body. The face had a look of quiet refinement which was unmistakable. Viewed from tlic front it was slightly- triangular in shape, the narrow end pointing downwards. His chin was firm and clearly cut, while above a fine Roman nose, stretched a massive, sloping forehead. r J'he singular thing about the head was its enormous length from the chin to the back of the crown. His colouring was distinctly brunette, deep brown eyes, and a fairly dark skin. Tlic head, you -would say. of a great rcasoncr, a notable scientist or a master musician-. Possibly, in any one guess, you would tint, be very far out. Following on the reading by Weston

of an item in the cable column of the ■ r e evening .paper, the conversation had turned on the chaotic state of affairs in Russia,! and Bolshevism, generally. Barstow had the floor at the moment.

" Funny thing," he said, reminiscently, " I defended a Communist chap to-day who had been charged with the dissemination of seditious literature. I felt a bit sorry for him. in a way; managed to get him off with a fine. lie seemed quite a decent chap despite the doubtful nature of his activities, and was ridiculously grateful for what I had done for him. When he came in to my account, he said something which I thought jolly queer." What did lie say?" put in Weston. " Well," continued Barstow, "He asked to sco me personally, and when he was shown into my room tendered me the money for my fee and said ' Mr. Barstow, you have been very good to me; in return I will tell you something, which may someday help you.' He got up and moved to the door, opened it and saw that the passage was clear. Then he came back, and, loaning over my table, whispered in my car, ' The power of Freedom.' and was gone before I bad time to ask what the deuce it was all about." '' Dashed queer," ventured Brookwood, "' r l lic fellow must have been mad." "They're all mad," broke in Sloney Weston. " A country which breeds birds of the Lenin and Trotsky feather, which wipes out organised religion, which abolishes the sanctity of marriage, and reduces it practically to universal prostitution. a country which fathers the mad subversive doctrines, which are corrupting the workers of all nations—such a country must- be suffering from a species of mass insanity. Study the conditions in the world to-d,\v. What do you find ? These iniquitous Bolshevik doctrines corrupting the masses, making loafers out, of good workers and rogues out of the poor ones. .God alone knows what will happen if some means .of counteracting these evil influences is not devised."

" What do you think, Remington The man addressed turned- his queer (shaped head from (he direction of the fire and his sombre, brown eyes scrutinised each of the others in, turn. For the space of fully a minute he said nothing, but scented to be pondering deeply. The room was dead quiet. Weston said afterwards it seemed so .dcJidly quiet, as to bo almost uncanny, like the atmosphere in a Cabinet r6om on the eve of a declaration of Avar. 'I hen lie spoke;—

" Weston is right," lie said, quietly, but with a voice, which carried intense conviction, " Russia was bad enough under fho Tsarist regime, but its influence was then more or less local. But today, its malign power is being felt

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all over the world. Tho Soviet has its emissaries in every city of any importance, working, corrupting, intriguing. Look at tho trouble Britain is having in China. Look at the slate of affairs in India and Egypt. America, too, is experiencing the same troublo. ' ITe paused and his brown eyes flashed. " I tell you, gentlemen, tho position is far more serious than you think." Ho made as if to continue, then checked himself abruptly as if he had said too much, and rose from his chair. " Well gentlemen, I havo some letters to write, so if you will excuse me I will retire." When the door was closed behind lum the three men beside the fire locked'at each other quizieally. "1 wonder if he's right?" queried Brookwood, " Ho seems to insinuate that something pretty serious might happen even here in New Zealand." " God forbid,", said Barstow in a serious tone. " Amen to that," added "Weston. CHAPTER 11. IN WHICH A RISING 15 A MUSTER RECEIVES SOME CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION AND HAKES A MOMENTOUS DECISION. Barstow, although a bachelor, did not reside at the club. Instead, he lived in rather exclusive fiats off Waterloo Quadrant.

On the night of tho conversation mentioned in tho previous chapter, ho was at a loose end, and, as he walked the short distance between tl.o club and his fiat, tho memory of the queer incident of the morning and the subsequent grave words which Remington had spoken, kept running through his mind. Despite all the efforts of his well-trained brain to concontrate on other things, lio was still thinking of Remington and his theories when he let himself into his flat, • and stretched himself out before tho fire for a smoke beforo retiring.

He had not been sitting long when the telephone on the table rang. He picked up the receiver. Bemington's voice greeted him over the wire. "That you, Barstow?" On receiving a reply in the affirmative, he asked:

" Can you give me an hour or so if I come right over ? " Barstow glanced at the watch on his wrist; 8.15 p.m. " Certainly, if you'd like to come," he

replied. Remington did not take long coming over. He arrived in less than four minutes. Barstow settled him comfortably in an armchair by the fire, offered him the cigars and waited for him to impart the reason for his unexpected visit. Remington was silent for a while, then suddenly he broke out:

" Barstow, if I were greatly in need of help, would you be willing to assist me'! "

" If it wore at all possiblo I would, Remington, but it would all depend 011 whether I would be competent to give the help you required." Remington looked him full in the face for a while, then he said: " The help I want is help which you arc competent to give me—the assistance of a fresh, keen brain, accustomed to solving problems—the help of a vigorous young body and strong personality, for God alone knows tho powers of evil against which they may lie pitted." Barstow looked puzzled. " I'm afraid I don't quite get your drift, old man," ho said quizzically. Remington laughed.

" It's a shame to puzzle you so," he said, in a lighter tone, " but believe me,

Barstow, I am really in need of your help and strangely enough you are, for one very particular reason, the only man I could ask to assist me. I've a long story to tell you, before you will properly grasp the request. I am going to make, but I think you'll bo interested if you're nothing else. Of course, all this is absolutely confidential." " Naturally," agreed Barstow. "■Well, to commence," began Bemington, " havo you ever met me before I came to Auckland? " Barstow regarded him keenly for a few moments. " I don't think so, but I'm not quite sure." Remington smiled. " ('lose your eyes for a few seconds, and then you can think again." Barstow obeyed and Remington crossed quickly to tho wall, where a Gorman officer's tunic and cap, souvenirs of Barstow's war activities, hung. Slipping off his coat he put on (ho tunic and buttoned it up. The cap he put on in the approved rakish fashion, peculiar to the German officer. From (lie pocket of his coat lie produced a small theatrical make-up box. and stepping over to the mirror which hung on the wall, 110 made u few changes to the appearance of his face, with deft touches whieh betokened the expert. The effect was startling. Where a minute ago had been a prosperous-looking Englishman, now stood a German officer, that is of course, if one disregarded the incongruity of the effect of mufti trousers 011 such a superstructure. Crossing in front of Barstow he said in perfect German:

" Herr Barstow : will now open his eves."

Barstow did so, and his expression caused Remington to chuckle with merriment.

"Great Scott! Captain Krost!" lie exclaimed. " Then you were the chap who bluffed the commandant of the Ruhleben Prison Camp into delivering me .up to you , to escort to Berlin ostensibly for special | interrogation, after I had over-reached myself in . the affair of old Von Stratum in November, 1916." " The same," smiled Remington, clicking his heels together, and giving the proper German salute. "It's a wonder you didn't spot me before." "By jove, that was a close shave," said Barstow. " The day before you turned up, they had me on the carpet for three solid hours, and I began to feel that my chances of escaping a stone wall and that cheerful accessory, a firing party, were about on a par'with the chances of the Well-known celluloid cat negotiating the hobs of Hades. However, you pulled it off or I should probably be twanging my harp af, this very moment. But how did I fail to recognise y°>i •" " The reason why you failed," answered Remington, " was that when I came to release you from Ruhleben, I was a German officer in all but fact. The secret of success in carrying off a disguise is not to act the part but live it. Whilst on that stunt I spoke German, I read German, and I thought German, and by the time the test came I was a real Hun, the kind of chap who would , cheerfully elbow his aged mother off the sidewalk as a 'matter of course. The game was not as hard as you might imagine, for, besides speaking German like a native, I had spent years travelling in Germany before the war and knew the lay of the land pretty well. However, that is really nothing to. do with the present business, but 1 wanted you to know my real identity, and my connection with your own past activities." ITc paused and with his handkerchief removed the make up from his face, then resuming his own coat, he continued: "In those days I was. employed by the British Secret Service. Practically throughout the term of the war I was on special work in Germany and Europe generally, and thanks to my luck holding, 1 managed to win out without being nabbed by the careful and vigilant Hun. After the war was Over I retired with Rita, my daughter, to a little cottage at RO3Jey in Kent, and spent a.long time indulging iu the dream which haunted

most of us during tho war; "that of having a littlo cottage, a few chickens, a cow, and all the rest of tho paraphernalia. Wo were very happy. Ilita enjoyed it, too. It was a mighty change from tho old life, when one stalked _alone in the midst of an enemy country carrying one's life in ono's hands, when the slightest breath of suspicion would have been sufficient to land one in front of a merciless enemy court-martial from which thero could be expected but short shrift and that not of the nicest. My active work iu the Secret Service finished in November, 1918. I'm not exactly a pauper, and I felt I wanted a long rest. For years of wartime secret service work is liable to Strain ono's nerves a bit, and I wanted a long spell. lience tlio retirement into tho country. I had five yearsi of a lazy, country life. Then one day in November, 1923, I received a letter from Sir Neil Probert, my old chief, and head of the special branch. It was curiously non-committal and rather vague for Sir Noil, who had a reputation for directness."

" I know," put in Barstow. "He was my chief, too." "So he told me," said Remington. "I flipped up to London without delay and saw him. He received mo iij his big, sombre room which had bcfcn_ tl'.o scene of many momentoup interviews, and, after tho usual greetings, gave mo the strength of what was exercising his mjn(|. It appeared that the Foreign Office had wind of some subterranean stirrings originating from Russia, the ramifications of which were well-nigh world wide, the avowed object being tho spread of Bolshevism among the workers in Britain and her Dominions, and the sowing of seeds of unrest among the coloured races which wo govern in China, India and Egypt. That's part of the trouble, and you can readily appreciate tho seriousness of the position. Imagine what a big uprising in India would mean. What a blow to the prestige of Britain it would be, if at all successful. It would ring tho death knell of her position as a Power in the East, and. believe me, Barstow, Great Britain is the one big Power, which for the sake of civilisation itself, must not bo discredited in that part of tlie world. God alone knows what would not be possible should the benevolent hand of Britain be stricken iu the East, The samo underhand methods were also being used in Egypt. Tho British posssesions in China, too, were feeling the pressure of this atmosphere of intrigue. Everywhere were evidences of sinister influences at work, scheming and plotting for the introduction of subversive doctrines and working hard to make .serious trouble for Britain at homo and abroad. That was one item which Sir Neil gave me. The second was a sort of sequel to the first. You know there's a passage somewhere in tho Bible which says, ' Whero tho body is thero will the eagles bo gathered together.' Well, it was being carried out almost literally in this case, for following on tho tracks of the Bolshevik agents was an organisation of immense power, directed by soino criminal genius, tho object being gain pure and simple. The connection between the two bodies was not at first potent, and took a littlo ferreting out, but eventually our fellows got on the track of one Brodi (to - use one of his aliases), and dropped down to the fact that this chap was the connecting link between the regular Soviet agents, and the criminal'gang. Of course he was not the head of the gang, or any--1 thing like it, but he was sufficiently in the confidence of the Soviet to get wind of their schemes in time to arrange for collaboration by the criminal organ Rations. To give the Soviet agents the credit which is due, I must say that they were not aware of the use which was being made of their activities, but nevertheless disruption of any kind always creates plenty of opportunities for illicit moneymaking by unscrupulous people. To mention one of their methods: —The Soviet agents would organise some outrage, say, for instance, a bomb outrage. Often it happened that the town selected had some place worth rifling. As soon as tho bomb outrage had been committed advantage would be taken of the general disorganisation which followed to make a clean sweep of the place selected. Where possible, this would be done at night with tho aid of wonderful electrical gear, for it. appears that in the gang is some wierd electrical genius. After robbing the show they leave a few bombs set and an hour or two later at least a section of the place goes sky-high. The police naturally put it down to Bolshevik activities, and by the time they have established a few of the facts the gang is miles away. That was tho other part of Sir Neil's story, and, mind you, the thing was iu operation at Home is well as in the East Sir Neil had his hands full and was mustering his special men to fight the menace. Naturally, Barstow, I was interested. I had been out of harness for a long time and to fell the truth, I was eager for a job. I knew that Pita, too, would welcome a change for, although sho had had said nothing, I had a fair)# shrewd idea that she was tired of the cow and chicken existence, and would jump at the chance of some really interesting work to do. Sir Neil said as much. Rita hatl worked with me before and he thought a good deal of her pluck and capabilities generally. It appeared that Sir Noil had sent, Bellairs, ono of his best men, out to China, and it was Bellairs who really spotted the connection between the work of tho Soviet agents and tho follow-up activities of the criminal gang. Ho paid dearly for it, poor chap, for they trapped him in some low den in Shanghai and murdered him, but not before ho had passed on tho information which gave' Sir Neil a chance of effectively organising his forces. Bellairs did more than he thought, for, following along (he lines of his information, a whole heap of interesting data was procured and the magnitude of the business at once became apparent. The headquarters of the Soviet is naturally Moscow, bjit they have a sort of subbranch in London, which has been ferretted out and is kept under pretty close though unostentatious surveillance. Then they havo a network of atrents scattered throughout tho Empire. Their organisation is jolly good, too, and they have some keen brains in the outfit.

" Well. Sir Neil wanted me to accept a sort of roving commission. He had a feeling that, despite all the information at his disposal, he had but scratched the surface, and that there was nasty business brewing which lie must counteract." " I tell you, Remington," he said, as we talked over matters 011 this occasion, "the British nation as a whole never had such a crop of trouble as it has at the present moment. Wo are reaping the result of the war. and we aro all in the awkward shaking-down stage which follows a world upheaval. Britain has her bands full. Labour troubles and unemployment, nation widely are making an ideal hotbed for the .germination of the seeds of subversive and revolutionary propaganda. It, is my job to kill the whole business and with the help of God and the assistance of men like yourself, I will." (To be continued daily.)