WEB CENTRE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22344, 15 February 1936, Page 7 (Supplement)

WEB CENTRE

By RALPH TREVOR Author of " Death In. the Stoll»," "The Eyea Through the Mask," etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT)

AN ENTHRALLING STORY OF MYSTERY, LOVE AND ADVENTURE

CHAPTER I. Lady Eunice Holland was one of those typical English woraon who exude their nationality at every pore. In early Edwardian days when Lady Eunice had been something of a beauty, a young man saturated in Swinburne had once concocted a poem in her honour. It had not been a particularly good poem, but there had been one line in it that had pleased her quite considerably. "Staunch as the Oak to the soil of England." Reviewed at this distance it is difficult to appreciate its significance as a panegyric, and while its application to Lady Eunice may not have been strictly in accord with tho poetical traditions of that lace-edged age, it was certainly applicable to her on this March morning as she sat perched, with no desire for modern comfort, on a chromiumframed chair in tho office of tho Assistant Commissioner of Police at Scotland Yard.

For Lady Eunice at sixty-three had entered tho dowager class of the more rugged and gnarled type. There was nothing frail about her; no mobcap and satin such as she might well have worn in any other age than the present. For one thing, like the oak of the young man's encomium, she did .not look her age, and this in spite of the fact she had no recourse to those picturesque and artificial aids which the modern chemist has brought to the surface of life to-day. Tho dominance of her personality could not bo ignored. When Lady Eunice made up her mind on anything, she was never amenable

to argument. The winds of logic and persuasive oratory might blow in a fury, but the oak had never been known to bow her head to the storm. "I tell you, my dear Maxwell, I feel a trifle uncertain about the business, and it's the first time I have ever felt uncertain about anything." Sir Maxwell Clayton, Assistant Commissioner of Police, permitted his monocle to fall negligently from his left eye as he regarded her from the other side of his elegantly appointed desk. "My dear Eunice," he said, "I've been telling you for years that one of these days you'd get caught. You remember the parable of the spider and the fly? How the spider contrived a web that was different from any other web? And how there was a particularly knowing and clever fly; large and fat and deliciously juicy? You remember that, my dear?" . Lady Eunice snorted and wrinkled her straight nose. "I remember nothing of the sort, Maxwell, and I'm not • interested in parables. They bore me." Sir Maxwell smiled. "But you're going to listen to this one, Eunice. As I was saying, the fly was a very knowing fellow. Ho swaggered around among his friends telling them they had nothing to fear from the spiders, and to prove his point he bade, them fly with him to an old coach-house where the spider, who was different, had spun an attractive-looking web. The friends gathered around and watched the venturesome insect fly right into the web. Once ensconced in its delightfully silken folds, he waved a hand to them and lay down as though to sleep. His friends and relations were amazed, as he hoped they would be. They were even more amazed when ho stood up, stretched himself, and flew right out of tho web with not so much as a silken strand despoiling his wellgroomed habit. ' There;' he announced, ' what did I tell you. There's nothing at all to bo afraid of.' "Naturally," continued Sir Maxwell, relentlessly, "the incident caused something of a stir in Flyland. It was discussed wherever two or three were gathered together, which was just what the spider had anticipated. Well, I think you can guess what happened after that. Not to be outdone the other flies proved to their relations and friends how foolish they had all been, and straightaway flew into the web. But they were not so fortunate, because the spider had spun another web, from which there was no escape." "I've never heard such rubbish in all my life," exclaimed Lady Eunice. "Sorry," Bmilcd Sir - Maxwell, "but I've been wanting to relate that story for quite a while now, and until this morning I've never had such a glorious opportunity. Don't you see, my dear, how applicable it might be to your own case. Hero you have been investing sums of money in all manner of companies about which you know so little. For the most part you have been lucky. By chance you have alighted on those that would havo passed tho scrutiny of a reputable stockbroker. Now you're worried because tho Central European Advancement Corporation has deferred paying a dividend due, as you say they put it, to tho unsettled conditions in Central Europe. The company may be all right, although I must admit that tho directorate does not contain any one name that is known to mo. And now you want me to make inquiriesi My dear Eunice, Scotland Yard does not exist for any such purpose as that. Wo can't do a thing in the matter until you havo some evidence to show that the thing is a swindle. When you have got that evidence we may be able to act; in the meantime you have got to wait." "Do you mean to sit there and tell me that all this wonderful organise-

tion of yours can do is to wait until I've lost my money? Pah! One of these di\ys I'll begin to believe what some of the newspapers have been saying for a long time; that Scotland Yard's years behind the times, and that a. complete reorganisation is essential if the taxpayer is to have value for his money. What's the use of taking action when it's too lato? You need a few women on tho staff here. They'd soon ferret things out."

"I'm sure they would, Eunice," agreed her brother, good-humouredly, "and I'll have a word with the Home Secretary as soon as ever I can." Lady Eunice arose from her chair and fastened tho fur collar of her coat. Her nose was still wrinkled.

"If I lose my money, Maxwell, there's going to be trouble for someone, mark my words." Sir Maxwell smiled as he placed both hands on her shoulders.

"Sorry if I've been ragging you, Eunice," ho laughed, "but if you'll leave the prospectus I'll see what I can do —unofficially.'' "I still believe there's a big future for Central Europe," she said, as he held the door open for her and followed her along the corridor. Exactly an hour after Lady Eunice Holland had climbed into her car in the courtyard below, a taxi-cab swung through the gates and discharged from its musty interior a neatly attired, healthy complexioned young man of twenty-seven. The officer on duty in the entrance hall know who ho was. He saluted smartly, and the Honourable Peter Worthing hurried along in tho direction of his uncle's office. Sir Maxwell greeted his nephew warmly. He always did, in spite of the fact that ho harboured a certain congenital animosity against young men who have no need, financially, to work for their livings.

"Well, Peter, and how's life just at the moment in the West End, and around the clubs P"

Peter Worthing helped himself to a cijgarette from the silver box on the Assistant Commissioner's desk. "I was told last night afc the Emberly that the first contingent of confidence men have arrived from Monte Carlo with the close of the season, and that they are at the moment waiting to join forces with another branch of the fraternity which sails any day now from New York. I'll bet that's real news to you." "Thanks, Peter," murmured Sir Maxwell, making an obvious note on his blotter. "The matter shall receive our most urgent attention. And how are the parties, Peter? The ones that disperse at six o'clock in the morning over rashers of bacon and magnums of champagne ? Still going the rounds, I suppose? 11 "Rats," laughted Peter, "what's the idea of the leg-pull? Anything serious happened to the family?-Don't tell mo that the family fortune's gone phut."_ Sir Maxwell smiled. "Part of it is in danger of becoming submerged. That's why I sent for you," and he proceeded to outline the reason for Lady Eunice's visit. "Aunt Eunice has been darned lucky so far," murmured Peter, "so what's •she growling about this time? How much has she popped into the show?" "Two thousand." Peter looked thoughtful. "But I don't see what I can do. I should have thought that you people would have been far better able to poke around a bit and discover how the land lies." "That's just it," Sir Maxwell told him, "I don't want it done that way. If I'm right in my surmising, the people at the back of this show —and others as well, no doubt —very quickly become acquainted with any police activities that may be directed against them. It's uncanny how a crook can smell out a: policeman. Sort of instinctive, I sometimes think. That's why t want this inquiry done rather differently. You see, Peter, I know you're au fait with almost everybody in town, arid not a few people out of it. Your father was the same, if you remember. I think he knew more people in London than any two men together. Some people are like that. They make friends easily. They have contacts everywhere. Now there's one man in whom I'm particularly interested. We've nothing whatever against him in the records hore. That means he's not been through the hands of the police, and though I did not tell your aunt when she was here, I've been suspicious of him for twelve months or more. Ho's 0110 of the people Scotland Yard always likes to keep m view and to check up on—purely for reference, of course, and when I saw his name as chairman of tho directors of the company in which Aunt Eunice had invested her modest two thousand, I began to wonder whether it wasn't perhaps providential that her flair for doing the right thing should have sent her to mo with just tho least bit of doubt in her mind." Peter Worthing was interested. As a matter of fact, ho was rather at a loose end at the moment, and though he had never mentioned tho matter to his uncle, he had always been more than a little interested in police work. "Who is tho fellow?" he asked. "Renol Vorsada. Does the name convey anything to you, Peter?" "I should say it does. He's a nasty, greasy little swine I met a month ago down at Ronnie Pardon's place at Wallingham. Simply oozing money, and not too particular about the way he oozes. I asked Ronnio where he raked him up, and I remember that Ronnie looked rather queer when I said that, so I apologised if I'd said anything 1 shouldn't have said, and Ronnie tried to laugh it off. But I've been thinking since that Vorsada's not the usual typo of guest that Ronnie usually invites down." (To ba continued daily)