WEB CENTRE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22346, 18 February 1936, Page 19

WEB CENTRE

By RALPH TREVOR Author of "Death in the Stalls," "The Eyes Througa mo w*. «=^..

(COPYRIGHT)

SYNOPSIS Sir Maxwell Clayton, Assistant-Commis-Sioner at Scotland Yard, sends for nis tephew, the Honourable Peter "Worthing, Mid tells him that his aunt, Lady Eunice Holland, has been foolish enough to invest fa. certain sum of money in a doubtful company, and that Lady Eunice has asked him to make some inquiries regarding the bona- - fides of ""Che ' company concerned. Sir MaxWell. however, links tip the affair with a further inquiry concerning the activities of Henol Vorsada, a cosmopolitan financier. He i asks the Honourable Peter to take a peep behind the scenes, realising that Vorsada has established himself as one of the pillars of London and county society. Peter Worthing is au fait with society, fend finds no difficulty in getting invited to tone of Vorsada's week-end gatherings at Carleon Towers. Here he finds an atmosp.aere of tension, and meets Maryon Santley and her father. Robert Santley. CHAPTER ll.—(Continued) Toward iflidnight they were standing together on the glass-screened loggia. " I've never enjoyed myself so much as 1 have to-night," he told her, and he meant it. " I'm so glad,?', she replied. " It has teen rather nice, hasn't it?" Peter wanted to become superlative about it, but something warned him that even alone on a loggia at midnight there are some things that are Inappropriate even when you are with the nicest) girl in the world. So he said: "I'd like to meet you in town sometime this week. Dinner at the Savoy, and, of course, a dance." " I should not like to disappoint you, Mr. Worthing," she answered, slowly, "but 1 couldn't say 'yes' at the moment, much as I want to. You eee. I'm afraid." - ( A note of alarm caine into Peter s JroiceL ' ' "Afraid? But ... For the second time that night he was at a loss for words, but the reason this time .was that with a little stifled sob, the girl turned from him and ran towards the open windows and disappeared into the house. For a moment Peter watched the spot where she had melted like a delicately pink wraith. Then he followed slowly, his, mind a morass of curiously entangled thoughts. CHAPTER 111. Maryori Santley was possessed of a fear that pressed with an unseen hand on her subconscious mind. She was not afraid f,or hersell ! , but for her father. For the past few weeks, before the invitation to spend a week-end down at Carleon Towers, she had felt herself becoming more than usually apprehensive, but it would have been better had she been able to give her fear a name. Young though she was, she was conscious that her father was more than ■usually worried. Though they had been inseparable companions since the death of her mother five years before, Robert Santley had never willingly worried her .with any of his business matters. Many a girl in, Maryon's position would not have bothered her pretty head for a moment over anything so prosaic as • stocks and shares, and such-like things. Here she was, a girl who could have almost anything she liked to name; a nice home in Wimbledon, exquisite furniture, a little open car of her own, a Springer spaniel, as much leisure as she wanted, and a generous allowance from an indulgent father which permitted her to dress just as she fancied without having to suffer the torture of "making do." Perhaps it was the close bond of sympathy between father and daughter that was responsible for the apprehension she had felt, and if Robert Santley imagined that he had succeeded in ■ disguising his anxiety from Maryon, he certainly did not know his daughter as well as he imagined. And it had been partly on a matter of business that he had accepted Vorsada's invitation. It was true, the invitation Had been of a purely social nature, but as this was the first occasion Vorsada had deigned to recognise ; him as a social unit,* Robert Santley | Was rightly intrigued to discover the reason for his sudden popularity.

AN ENTHRALLING STORY OF MYSTERY, LOVE AND ADVENTURE

He had met Vorsada on many occasions in the city where that gentleman appeared slowly to be acquiring control —-or some measure of control —in a large number of companies, mostly of a speculative nature, and Robert Santley, as head of the Santley Finance Trust Company, ■ reputed to be the largest of its kind in Europe, made it his business to be interested in the personnel of London's financial maelstrom.

Vorsada, he was well aware, had endeavoured several times to manipulate the share market against the Santley Trust, but so far he had discovered the ramifications of that company bo vast, and its. stability a by-word on exchange and kerb, that he had been unable, powerful though he undoubtedly was, to shake the confidence of the money market in Robert Santley's corporation. Santley was aware that a man of Vorsada's temperament such failures must have been dovastatingly disconcerting. He also knew that Vorsada was cunning enough to descend to quite despicable depths in order to gain the advantage he needed. He had long visualised Vorsada as the uncouth giant of international finance. He knew that on more than one occasion the if* fluence of the Vorsada machine had been evidenced in the see-saw of the markets, and only a fortnight ago a meeting of the Santley Trust directorate had been summoned to investigate a slight downward movement in the shares of one of the trust s subsidiary companies. Such fluctuations were usually thought little of. They were the normal indeces of buying and selling, and they usually adjusted themselves before any permanent damage was done. But this time it was evident that the gradual unloading of shares on to the market was not in accordance with the usual procedure of normal buying and selling. For one thing the shares remained stagnant for several days, and this stagnation had a correspondingly depressing effect on their market value. The financial experts of the daily and evening newspapers commented on the phenomenon, and by the time the directors of the trust realised what was happening, the shares had dropped into a minor landslide. It was true that a manipulation on . the part of the trust itself rectified the price again, but it was not that, so much as the shaken confidence in the shares, that worried Robert Santley. He was a man who conducted business on strictly honest lines. The Santley Trust had long been recognised as second only to gilt-edged securities. For twenty years it had held the unshaken confidence of the public, and Santley and his codirectors realised that only by a maintenance of that confidence could the trust raise its broad shoulders high above the ruck of speculative financial concerns whose shares —always on the market —represented a gamble. He had no notion that he had conveyed any of the worry he felt to his daughter, even though, when pressed, he had confessed that business these davs was becoming increasingly "difficult," and as a result of that he thought they had better not arouse any antagonism in Vorsada's mind by refusing his invitation.

Maryon sensed that her father was, for once, not being perfectly frank with her. She was an intelligent girl, and would probably have surprised him by the extent of her knowledge of the business of finance, and she had taken the trouble to make a few judicious inquiries regarding Mr. Renol Vorsada s activities in the city. These inquiries and their results did not greatly impress her, but, nevertheless, she was sufficiently astute to connect them in her mind with her father's desire not to alienate the financial magnate.

Having met tho man she became more and more convinced that he was a danger. What it was gave her this impression, she could give no logical explanation. In all probability it was instinctive, and there are many women who go through life guided solely by an instinctive urge, the exact nature or explanation of which has never yet been satisfactorily accounted for by the psychologists; nor probably will it ever be.

Daring the drive down to Carleon Towers her depression had deepened. It was like the slow drifting of a fog, hazy at first and then settling down to blot out everything. Skilfully, she had contrived to disguise her apprehension from her father. Try as she would she could not bring the logical side of her mind to refute the depression by arguing as to what possible danger her father could be in by accepting an invitation to a week-end party at a country house. She tried to believe that her fears were absurd, but there was little response. And Peter Worthing had not clarified the situation, either. Maryon was not, normally, an impressionable young woman. She had been acquainted with quite a number of young men, but none of them had succeeded in arousing her interest beyond the point of social politeness and the indulgence in an occasional flirtation at a country club in Surrey, when the moon was as round as a silver platter and everyone was utterly irresponsible and gay. The Honourable Peter Worthing was known to her by repute. She had heard that he was, if not exactly a hater of her sex, at least disinterested, which in the minds of some women is a crime of even greater magnitude. Maryon had liked his talk at the dinner table, even if it was of a conventional kind, and she had tuned herself to a high pitch of insoucience in her efforts to disguise the fact that she was considerably more preoccupied with her own thoughts built upon an indefinite fear. Afterward, as thoy danced, Maryon believed she had succeeded, but perhaps if her mental insistance on this fact had not been so thoroughly artificial, the breaking-point would not have come at such a ridiculously inopportune moment as it did. In a quiet corner Maryon repaired the damage to her eyes, and as she did so she was conscious of the hammerblows of her heart. She realised now that she had been foolish; that she had given Peter Worthing an excellent excuse to make unwelcome inquiries. The room into which she had stumbled was not fully illuminated, but a fan light from the wide doors on the farther side supplied all she needed. For a moment or two she remained perfects still, fearing that Peter Worthing would follow hard on her heels. If he did she must think up some rapid excuse for her foolishness. But Peter Worthing did not follow, and whether she was glad or sorry Maryon never quite knew. From the next room came the still insistent strains of the dance music mingled with the bubbling laughter of the dancers. She decided to go to her room. Fifteen minutes later she emerged on to an empty corridor in search of her father. She had not seen him since dinner, and she knew that she was apprehensive. She found him in the lounge talking to a tall ascetic young man with a high forehead. At the sight of her he murmured his excuses, and came toward her.

"Well, my dear, how are you enjoying yourself?" And before she could answer his smiling question, he added: "And what have you been doing to the Honourable Peter Worthing? I saw him not a moment ago taking leave of our host."

Maryon laughed. "Yes, he's not staying the night," she informed him. "Ho was tolling me he has a cottage quite close to here." "What an odd fellow," he ventured. "Feeling tired?'' "Not a bit, daddy. And ypuP What have you been doing all the evening? Not dancing, surely?" Robert Santley chuckled. "I've had several invitations," he told her, "and I've seen as many disappointed faces at my refusal. By the way, you'd better not wait up for me. Vorsada wants to have a word with me later on. Ho didn't say what time." Maryon's heart pounded. "On business?" she queried. "Very likely. I rather expected it." "You're sure you're all right, daddy?" He looked at her with surprised eyes. "Why, of course. Why shouldn't I?" Maryon laughed softly. "You know what the doctor told you about keeping late hours," she warned him. "I don't suppose we'll be too late, and I can't very well refuse, can I?" "Of course you can't," the girl assured him, although her mind did not echo her tongue's sentiments. "I don't feel in the least eleepy myself," sho went on. (To be continued daily)