"MYSTERY ISLAND."

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20263, 24 May 1929, Page 20

"MYSTERY ISLAND."

BY PALMER WHITE.

"And Fanshawe is in Auckland now?" " Yes, he come." bore periodically I'ill give you a note to him. He won't sod you unless you have some credentials. Give mo a piece of paper, and I'll writ® it now." " Do," I replied. " And while you'ru doing it I will decipher the message which appeared in last night's Star." • I did, and it proved to be a simpl© instruction to Nos. 12, 16, 23, 24, 18, 20, 21, 22 to foregather at headquarters j at 1 a.m. (Tuesday). ! Remington finished the note, and, after j spending another hour with him, I jumped into the car and sped back to town. Truly the business had queer kinks_ in it. Here was I, at a deadlock, seeking assistance from a weird old chap who was known to bo eccentric, and a devotee of the mysterious into the bargain. The address on the letter was Street Royal Oak. No. 6 turned out to be a big, two-storied house in brick, standing in small but neatly kept grounds. I rariE the bell, and an angular woman of middle age appeared and asked what I wanted. I said I wanted to see Mr. Fanshawe. I produced Remington's letter and gave it to her. She disappeared for a matter of five minutes. Then she came back and. with a vinegary smile, said curtly: " Mr. Fanshawe will see you." I followed her through a long hall and up a staircase thence along a passage running at right angles to the main one. At the first door on the left the woman stopped and knocked. A deep, pleasint voice boomed. " Co'ne in," and wo entered. Tho housekeeper vanished, and a tall, thin man approached me with, " Mr. Barstow, I'm glad to meet you. Any friend of Mr. Remington's is welcome hero." I murmured the usual courtesies as I took rapid but careful stock of his appearance. Ho was, as I have already said, tall find thin. There was something wiry about his leanness, but it was not the physiquo of tho outdoor man. The shoulders were slightly stooped as with much study, and the skin of the face and hands was pallid, like that of a child who has been kept indoors out of the sunshine. The head was abnormally high and narrow—that shape of face I bad learned from my observations to associate with the species of person known as the crank. The nose was thin and straight, and the lips moderately thin and firmly held, but the eyes told me what I had expected I should find. They ■were easily the most startling featurs of his face. They were pale blue, almost merging to green and they , were the wide staring eyes of the fanatic. Ho regarded me for a moment and then came forward and shook the by the hand. " Sit down, Mr. Barstow. You want to see nie." " I do," I replied. I sat down opposite him in the big, book-lined room,- and without beating about the bush I' told him that my object in coming to see him was to enquire if he knew anyone by the name of Karnofl. ,l He's an international swindler. Russian," I explained. " Karnoff, Karnoff 5" muttered this strange individual. " No, Ido not know him at all." " Brodi 1" I queried. " Brodi—yes. He is, I believe, an agent of the Russian Communists, a very dangerous man, more so because he is an Englishman born. I ran across him in London a long time ago, a year or so after I began trying to convince Sir Neil Probert of the reality of the Communist menace. Sir Nei would not believe it possible,' so I did a little work on my own which ho afterwards was gracious enough'to recognise. Brodi was killed in n fvair accident near Paris later." " He's in or near Auckland at this moment," I said quietly. Tiie wide pnie eves blazed for a moment —the.): " You may be right, Mr. Barstow. I have just returned from a trip to Egypt —partly as pleasure trip—partly research —l'm interested in Eastern studies, Eastern customs, Eastern lore of all kinds. I ; like to compare notes with those who have spent their lives acquiring that knoweldge —and they will impart it only to those •who will pay the price—but I digress, ■we were talking of Brodi. You say he is here." " Absolutely," I replied. « " Brodi? Brodi?" He got up from his seat and proceeded to stalk up and down the floor. " I'm out of touch—l can't help—l am Korrv —wait! I wonder! I wonder if it could be ! " He turned on me like a flash, his queer eves shining with a strange mystical light. „ " Listen, Mr. Barstow ! " he exclaimed, in a voice pitched much higher than that in which he had previously spoken. Indeed the whole aspect of the man b1 changed so much that he seemed to be another person altogether. "Listen!" he said in a peculiar strained voice, " like the prophets of old, I see visions and dream dreams. Yes, even have I the gift of I knew two years before of the Great War—knew of the date, and they laughed at me. I have seen in visions, many symbols of happenings to come. Of earthquakes, accidents and calamities of like hind., and they have come to pass." He continued in his tiger-like march of the room and then turned on me again as T sat in a sort of mystified silence, ■wondering what on earth I nad struck. "Three nights ago," he continued, "I had a dream, and in the dream .1 saw a strange thing. I saw a flag the Union Jack—stretched as it were, over the sea. On each corner was a gold coin. As I looked in my vision, I saw the flag, so outstretched, drop down to the sea. Ihen, when it seemed only a few feet from the sea, it stopped. My vision faded but •the memory remained with me. I cannot tell if it be of significance to you, but the next night the vision came again. Last night it came once more and when I awoke this morning I had a premonition of some disaster which is imminent, and therei is left in my mind a time, but I cannot tell why. I feel it is so but I cannot tell. The time is ten weeks from to-day and the place is at sea or near the coast. Do not ask me more. More, I cannot tell. Remember, ten weeks hence. Near the coast or jtist out to sea. Your danger is there." He stopped pacing the carpet and sat down: again. The fanatical light had died from ins eyes and his voice dropped to the natural ■pitch. " 1 hope it will assist you, Mr. BarStow." I rose to go. " Thank you very much," I replied. f I'm sure it will." He rang, and the housekeeper woman showed me out. It was glad to get out into the sunshine. The atmosphere of .that room had been too reminiscent of the fortune-teller's booth at the fairs at Home, and being a Britisher, I hadn't a great deal of time for hocus pocus of any kind. I mused over the result of this interview. Frankly, I thought I had wasted my time. Fanshawe was obviously a harmless kind of lunatic with all the idiosyncrasies which might be expected in one engaged in his line of study. Still,, I couldn't forget that Remington had given him a great reputation for work in the Secret Service. Could there by any chance be anything in this dream business? I was puzzled. He mentioned ten weeks from to-day. That would bo February 22. And at or near tho sea. Well, I could see what shipping there ■would be near the coast on or about that time, but of course, this vision business was all rot, anyway. I drove back to fcown and went into the office.

THRILLING DRAMA OF LOVE AND INTRIGUE.

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For the second time that day I felt really up against a brick wall, and I again experienced a feeling of despondency. After lunch I took the car and some bathing togs and ran out to St. Heliers. I parked the car by tho beach and went in for a swim. The cold salt water and the zest of swimming completely cleared up my attack of the blues and I ran back to town, mentally - resolving to dig up someone and go to the theatre. As I sped along St. Heliers Road I noticed a big ship coming in. My mind (lew back lo the words of Fanshawe. Ton weeks from to-day—at sea or near the coast. Hang the crazy fellow! Why couldn't I forget tho rubbish ho had spoken. But all tho way back to town I felt tho selfsame words kept running through my memory and dinning themselves into my ears like tho recurring of some silly doggerel verse one has learned at childhood and which refuses to be forgotten. Tho upshot of it all was that I drove around to the Union and other steamship companies and got their sailing lists for as far ahead as they could be estimated. These I took homo, and after dinner, turning my idea of the theatre down, I set to work to complete a tabulated list of sailings and arrivals for tho next two months, paying particular attention to the traffic between here and Australia. The sailings and arrivals I put down side by side under the respective datas, and the list when fiinished was a fairly comprehensive one. I cut out all the local coastal stuff. Our danger, I was sure, did not lie there, but I compiled as complete a list as possible of the estimated dates of sailings and arrivals as advised by the various companies. When I had finished I looked at tho list I had made, with disgust. It seemed so childish that, at the moment when some disastrous and far-reaching coup was being brought to fruition by two keen master minds, that tho best I could do to circumvent them was to sit in my flat making out a complete list of sailings and arrivals from tho data provided. And when I remembered that the date which had impressed itself on me as being worthy of investigation had been given to me by a man whom I regarded as a species of harmless half-wit, I felt like tearing the whole thing up in disgust. However, I did not do so, but went to bed after having taken the usual precaution about locking the door, and, in addition, shooting the bolt which I had instructed the caretaker to put on that morning. Then I went to sleep. When I received my mail the next morning I-was pleased to see that there was one from Worsley. 6 Decoded it read: Dear Barstow, You will doubtless wonder why I have had nothing to report before this. Things nro very quiet here. lam wondering ij it is tho calm before the storm. , Karnoff has withdrawn practically all of his men. Somo went over some time ago to Auckland by boat, and the remainder left about three days ago on a bis steam yacht which has appeared out of the blue and taken them 011 board. This same yacht is manned apparently a foreign crew—Russian, 1 think. She is painted dark grey and is called Nitka. Also she took a transhipment of ten big cases which came hi the Cambria. I have no idea what they contained. You will remember I was to find out any items of interest to happen in February. AVell, there's only one of any moment, and it's a pretty big item. I have ascertained that the Commonwealth Mint proposes Bhinping to Auckland near the end of the month a big consignment of coin, a very large one. I believe, but have not been able to find the amount. The boat lam not sure of, either, but am practically certain it will be the Makorangi. I hope this information will helo you. ... , I also trust that Remington is doing favourably. , Regards. • 11. Worsley. P.S.—Since writing the above T bave received word that R. .T. IJmbert, an official at the Mint, has shot himself in his oflice. It looks as if .the E.J.U. mentioned in the wireless message might possibly refer to him. He might quite easily have been pushed into a hole by Tvamoff and have committed suicide as a result. 2"W

I quite concurred with Worsley's reading of the mystery surrounding Umbert's suicide, but to me the first portion of the message was infinitely more interesting. I dropped the letter and took, my list of sailings and arrivals out of my pockets. A moment later I sat back in my seat with my eyes alight with a. fever of anticipation. The Makorangi was timed to leave Sydney on February 17, and was estimated to reach Auckland early on the 22nd. CHAPTER XI. QUEER HAPPENINGS AND A LITTLE RESEARCH WORK. The weeks passed rapidly without incident. They were nightmare weeks for me. Remington had been shifted to a convalescent home in the Waitakere Ranges, and there I would repair frequently to consult with him, but our, conferences were barren of result. Acting on his instructions, I spent half of my nights combing the city, but without result. Karnoff's forces were not in Auckland. Of that I was now certain. I was disgusted with my failure. The hunt had passed mo and I was stranded by a fence which I could not negotiate. 'The passing of time increased my apprehension. It was now & If the date mentioned lor tin arrival of the Mint shipment was to bi the day of Karnoff's big coup, I had now exactly fourteen days to find out what the plan was and where it was to put into effect, and having done so to take the best means of combatting the menace. I sat in my flat looking out on the harbour, and frankly, the idea of some overhanging calmity seemed so ridiculously remote that I laughed aloud. Then I thought of poor old Remington wheezing about in the convalescent home with a scraped lung, and the laugh died on my lips. I thought, too of the attempts made on my own life, and the realisation that, for all I knew, any day might herald the advent of some dreadful disaster, whicn might shake the very city to its foundations, made my blood run cold. Ihe sense of my own impotence noarly drove me mad. I .had got. so far.and it seemed that I could get no further. I had thought myself on the verge of discovering something important when I had captared Malini, but there again the trail had ended, figuratively and literally, in smoke. I sat down and wrote out a summary of my doings, starting from the moment I had left New Zealand for Sydney, and continuing up to the present time. Ihe account was not a long one, but on the other hand omitted nothing of moment. I could not at the time explain my motive for doing this, but it seemed to me that soon I would be right in the thick of some unpleasant business, which at the time of writing I could but vaguely sen-'i; and I wanted to leav». something on record to help whoever followed in case anything seriously happened to me. It seemed queer to sit there and meditate in this erie fashion, but I had seen sufficient of Karnoff to realise that with him, at any rate I could expect nothing in the way of quarter, and if I fell into- his hands il would go badly with me. That was on the Bth. At midnight on the 14th. part of the tower of a building in Princes Street disappeared, blown to powder by some highly explosive agent of which no trace could* be found. The caretaker when questioned by the police vigorously denied the possibility of anyone gaining admission to the tower without his knowledge. There was no trace of any explosive in the portion of the tower remaining, and, what was more, there seemed to be nothing' left of the shall ered concrete, but a coarse dust, which was blown for a radius of two hundred yards. The metal work was thrown, a twisted mass, into'the centre of thf Albert Park where it lay where it had fallen. (To be continued daily.)