POISON IN WATER-BOTTLE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22402, 24 April 1936, Page 2 (Supplement)

POISON IN WATER-BOTTLE

Drama of the French Foreign Legion SCHEMING CAPTAIN RECEIVES JUST PUNISHMENT.

By P. C. WREN Copyright Reserved

In this article the celebrated author of is stranger than any CAPTAIN Alphonse Mallieu, extremely well known throughout the French Army in Africa, died in an extraordinary manner. For 1 saw him go into the tent that night, and, after Captain Georges Duchesne had told me certain things, I guessed what Captain Alphonse Mallieu did in the tent. And my guess must be right, because nothing else fits the facts; no other explanation accounts for the astounding manner of his death. It was said that, Captain Alphonse Mallieu of the French Foreign Legion hated his brother officer, Captain Georges Duchesne with the deep, bitter and malevolent hatred that flourishes better, perhaps, on Latin soil than on Anglo-Saxon, and more strongly between two of a trade, who see too much of each other. Captain Alphonse Mallieu was long and lithe, dark and saturnine, taciturn and sardonic. His men hated him; few people liked him; and he inspired more fear than love in the women upon whom he turned the smouldering light of his bitter thinlipped countenance. Captain Georges Duchesne was somewhat short and stout, fair and smiling, expansive and cheerful.- His men loved him. He had but one enemy and a host of friends. Women instinctively trusted him. And he had a very beautiful wife, a woman whose type of chic loveliness was Captain Alphonse Mallieu's ideal; and whose cool indifference was his bane. Love and Hate Of Madame Duchesne Captain Alphonse Mallieu thought by day and by night; sometimes with burning love sometimes with boiling hate, and sometimes with both. What added fuel to the lambent flames of both these feelings was her complete indifference to either. , , n But he would disturb her calm! Me would get beneath her glacial armour. He would humble her pride. "Georges, my little rabbit," said Diane Duchesne to her stout husband, one sultry morning, as that happy pair sat at petit dejeuner in their cramped, unhomely quarters. "Do you love me?"

" Beau Ceste " tells a true story which iction he has written. "Not for a month, anyhow," agreed Diane. "You are better without it in this climate, my little fat hippopotamus; and a month's abstinence will. ..." "It will, it shall. Not for a month will I so much as smell the cork of a . . . But —about the dog Maliieu. I must. ..." "You must not. If he challenges you —that's another matter, Georges. You could shoot his buttons off, one by one, at fifteen paces. But he won't challenge the Grand Prix pistol-shot of France —the finest shot in Europe—probably the world. Didn't he see you beat Wynaus in Paris and . . . no—he won't challenge you. And you're not to challenge hiin." - "Am I to ignore his behaviour—the double-distilled triple extract of a swine?" "Yes, tor the present. Completely." "But, my darling girl! I can't let. .* "I can, though. Wait. Wait and see." "Wait how long?" • One ol Two Things "If he makes love to me again, I shall look him in the eyes—a long, cool thoughtful look. I shall say, 'I have one husband already. That would appear to be one too many for the success of what you propose. Go and challenge him to a duel moncher Alphonse. . . .' Then one of two things happens —both desirable. Either he lets me alone in future —or you kill him." .That same night, the brazen-tongue bugles blew their clamorous, insistent call, waking sleeping men to the knowledge that, in nine minutes, they must get from bed to barrack-square. fjjlly dressed and equipped, with everything they possessed upon their bodies ana their backs. Georges and Diane, after one long heart-straining embrace, parted, he nearer to tears than she, with long kisses and brief words. Up at the window of their quarters gazed Captain Alphonse Mallieu, for a minute, and, as, on the window-blind, he saw two shadows become one, he cursed. Through twisted lips he swore that at least one . captain of that battalion should not return to the base} one officer's wife should be a widow—and in a black rage of jealousy, wounded vanity and insane egoism, he lightly tapped the left-hand breast pocket of his tunic wherein reposed the tiny phial that never left. Captain Alphonse Mallieu had seen too many of the hideously-mangled

Georges registered ecstasy. "There is no unit of measurement! There are no terms in which a mere human being, though speaking with the tongue of men and angels could. . . "Right!" interrupted Diane. "Then you can prflmise me two things." "Two hundred," interrupted Georges in his turn. "That you will give up cognac for a month, and that you will give up any thought of fighting a duel with Captain Alphonse Mallieu —for life." "But 1 have not the faintest intention of fighting a duel with Mallieu! Why should I? . . "Listen, Georges, Serimo. You don't kiss me again until you hare promised. That I swear . . .Now then ..." The Insult "1 kiss you as soon as I have wiped my lips," he replied, "and I hereby promise, before 1 do so. . . . What's the joke, loveliness? Why should I challenge Mallieu to fight?" "Because after I had danced with him last night, he challenged me—to love. He kissed me, and he made me proposals that only. . . ." Captain Duchesne flushed darkly. "What did you do when he kissed you?" he interrupted. "I did not notice that he had done so." "And when he proposed that you should .. . should. . . ." Captain Duchesne stuttered, and his face turned purple. "I yawned. I looked at my wrist-watch. I strolled back into the ballroom, and thence to where you were —drinking cognac." "Light of the heart young soul! Never again will I touch. . . . '

bodies of French wounded who had fallen into the hands of the Arabs and been tortured to death by the women. Not for him was such a death. In that phial were tiny tablets of cyanide of potassium, each strong enough to kill the strongest man, in a minute or two. Poison for a Platoon And there are no post-mortems on active service! no coroner's iaquests on bodies after battle. If Captain Georges ■ Duchesne were found dead on his bivouac when reveilli blew one morning —why, that would be just too bad. Waiting his opportunity, and discarding many in which danger lurked, Mallieu seized the safe one—Duchesne at bivouac mess; his kit and accoutrements in the shelter of his tent. Removing the stopper of the big felt recovered water-Dottle, Mallieu tipped into it a good half of the contents or his phial of hydrocyanic acid tablets and in five seconds had turned the brandy and water into a poison sufficient in strength and quantity to kill a platoon of men. "Swill that, you swine," he whispered as he rose to his feet. His P ex ® words were "Bon soir, mon ami,' as he nodded to Captain Georges Duchesne, and seated himself opposite, to him on an ammunition-box, at the trestle-table of the bivouac mess, Georges Duchesne nodded, rose to his feet, and retired to his Arab tent. He had had a tiring day. A Promise Remembered What about a spot of cognac? Very v heartening. Very comforting to a weary man. And Diane wouldn't mind, really, in the circumstances. The month was nearly up, too. Georges Duchesne removed boots and tunic, lay down on his ground-sheet and rug, yawned, struck a match, reached for his waterbottle and pulled out the stopper. • • • Ah! No. He had given her his word, and they never broke their word to each other; never told each other lies; never cheated. But the month was so near.y up. So much the more reason, there, for letting it run out completely. -No —he would not touch cognac until the month had expired. He laid the bottle down again and fell asleep. Next day, wearily trudging at the head of his company, he rounded a turn in the mountain track and came upon a little group by the edge or a deep wadi. Men about s. recumbent officer, lying, silent and still, closed eyes. . . .Hullo! It was Mallieu. Had a sniper got him then? Nodding to his adjutant marching beside nim. Captain Georges Duchesne turnea aside, thrust through the rou P 1 \, a, iasked what had happened. ,^j u •<:: kicked him, my captain," re P e i . sergeant who was rendering such nrs aid as he could. "Fell, and then kick him on the head as it struggled up. It's absolutely nothing, captai will be all right in a minute." , Mallieu's eye-lids flickered as t e man spoke. His hands moved. Georg Duchesne took a collapsible cup from his pocket and filled his water-bottle. Mallieu opened eyes, frowned, stared round " im i ff the sergeant raised him to a.si S position. He was still dazed andl st P from the blow. Duchesne held the P to Mallieu's lips. Mallieu dran* greedily and died. He had, as ; Duchesne prophesied, killed himseu-