Brocklebank's Adventure

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22391, 11 April 1936, Page 13 (Supplement)

Brocklebank's Adventure

By R. A. J. WALLING Author of "The Man with the Squeaky Voice," etc.

(Copyright)

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued) " That's not the point," exclaimed Harrison-Clifford. " We had it all out when I told you I meant to stop your precious scheme. It was to be a sort of game of cliess: If I could foresee your moves, I was to check 'em. In the last resort, if I had evidence enough, I was to be at liberty to bring in authority to put an end tn it, after giving you fair notice. In the meantime, we were to play single-handed, with no interference from outside and no violence. That's 80?" «} " Perfectly," said Henry. " Well—it hasn't worked out like that. You brought in that thug Rovigo to spy on me in Now York, and ho nearly bumped me off. You allowed violence against Pamela —" " Bad choice of tools, George. I've apologised for all that. I regretted it. I regret it now. And what about you ? You brought in the Gargantuan Brocklebank, and there couldn't have been anything much more violent than what happened at Wolston the other night." " Wolston —ah, that was post hoc and propter hoc, too, Henry. It's useless to argue with you aljout the merits of the

case. But there's another point of view that ought to appeal to you—the chance of success."

" My dear George—l've been cerebrating on nothing else for six weeks." " Then you must be insane—quite mad."

" I think not. Ryt I'm quite willing to bo George. Success depended from the first on secrecy, and there was never a secret better kept." " Whatl" " Certainly—it's known now to nobody but myself and Charles here." " And I thought you were a realist, if ever the world saw one! What d'you Buppose Brocklebank has been doing ever since he was treated in that way at Wolston P"

" I don't suppose anything. I know exactly. D'you think I'd have left Mr. Brocklebank at liberty if he'd had the ghost of a chance to discover the secret ? 1 guessed what Brocklebank would do, and he's done it. He's been stirring up merry hell. He got hold of that clever devil Tolefree somehow or other—" " Ah!" said Harrison-Clifford.

" And they dug out my respected parent and told him how a gang of desperadoes had dared to use his beautiful house as a base for their nefarious

plots. And he went down to Wolston with them looking for clues! Fancy the face of him! Since that, Charles thinks, they've been on to old Brownwood about it, and I daresay he's right. And they certainly paid a visit to Farley at Ladywell, looking for you—and once more they trussed up that drunken fool Norrie. And 1 wouldn't be surprised, George, if they'd spotted you at Marsh Cottage and know all about this boat and this little trip of ours, because there's a police launch keeping tab on us now."

"Good Lord!" cried Harrison-Clif-ford, " and you ask me to prove that you're mad! Why, Henry, the whole thing's finished. A secret! —you might as well have advertised it in The Times." " That was certainly an idea, George. It did occur to me, but I thought it over and found it a little too clever to be convincing."

AN EXCITING STORY OF A "PRIVATE WAR"

" I give you up, Henry. You're beyond me." " I believe I am." said Worth's slowvoice. " Don't take offence, George. I've got everyone guessing, and they all guess wrong. They all know the secret I've been shouting at 'em. But they don't know the one I haven't. The central principle of success in war is to mislead the enemy. That's all there is to it. While Mr. Brocklebank and our friend Tolefree continue to chase you and Pamela, and while Lord Brownwood and his minions continue to ehase me, all's well. Let the good work go on. No—shan't be more explicit, George. I hope to entertain you and Pamela royally for a week's cruise while the head of the house of Worth collects the shekels in London and the quidnuncs in Whitehall continue to guess. That's all. Now, I'm going to turn in till four o'clock. Other wise men will do the same. Good night, Charles. Come along, George." Brocklebank took advantage of the stir of their departure to change his position. Suddenly he heard HarrisonClifford's voice- beyond the partition rap out, "Well, I'm darned!" Fortunately Pamela replied, "Hush! —

not so loud," and the rest of the conversation reached him only as an inarticulated murmur. Probably Pamela had told Uncle George of the Bandit's message, and they were discussing its bearing on Henry's intentions. Brocklebank, in a state of excited speculation, discussed the same question with himself He looked forward to a thoroughly interesting development at 4 a.m. which would get the self-con-fident Mr. Worth guessing much harder than he had made other people guess. " Bill Brocklebank," he told himself, " you're a hulking great blunderhead, but you certainly do have the devil's own luck! If you play your cards right, my boy, you've got a straight flush. But, Bill, if any one of 'em discovers that you're on this lugger before the ps3'chological moment arrives, your hand goes west. Now, think hard 1" Brocklebank knit his brows in the darkness for several minutes while the murmuring next door continued. if his presence were revealed before Worth had gone so far with his adventure that he could not draw back, it would be the simplest thing in the world to run for the shore and dump Mr. Brocklebank. Whereas, if he made his appearance only when the police boat came up—as it certainly would—to find

out the reason for this rendezvous in the North Sea, he, Brocklebank, would be in absolute command of the situation. Worth would be unaware that the police knew ha was on board. The police would be unaware that he possessed the secret of Worth's intentions. He held all the cards ( that mattered. . . A rustling noise close to his right ear. Brocklebank turned his head to the crescent of light. A spill of paper waggled up and down. He seized it, constituted his photographer's hood again, switched on his torch and read: " You'ro a wonder. You understand the plan—to take us on board a ship, the Persimmon, off the Nore. If this comes off I fear we've lost —unless you've been able to take extraordinary measures ashore. What do you advise? " G.H.C. '4 Brocklebank wrote on the back of this note:

" Advise all wise people to go to bed till four o'clock. Only thing that can stop us winning the war is false stop now. Do nothing. Agree to everything except to go on board before I turn up. When you see me. register surprise and nothing else. On these conditions we've got 'em bent. You'll probably see some fun. Bandit's homage to Pamela. Pass this back: it might be dangerous for you to have it while Briggs and Norrie and Rovigo are about. After 4 a.m. I guess we shall be quit of them."

Brocklebank folded the paper and passed it through. It came back with a pencilled scrawl across it in Pamela's writing: " O.K. Bandit." He switched off his light and composed himself to await events —and involuntarily composed himself to sleep. . . The sudden absence of vibration woke him —as he thought almost immediately. The bow light had gono. He was in pitch-darkness, and in silence save for the lap of water along the boat's side. He flashed the lamp for an irestant upon his watch. A quarter to four I He had slept for more than three hours. Tlio first sound to reach him was the opening of the bulkhead door, followed by a thud of footsteps down the narrow passage, . . "Pack up, Charles, and be ready." ''Very well, Henry. Is everything going well?" "Like an Easter collection for the dear vicar, Charles. But get a move on . . (To be continued daily)