THE FLAMING CAVERN

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22628, 16 January 1937, Page 12 (Supplement)

THE FLAMING CAVERN

By ANGUS MacVICAR Author of "The Screaming Gull," etc.

(COPYRIGHT)

CHAPTER Xlll.—(Continued) He glanced in her direction and saw that 'there was a soft llusli in her cheeks. Then, to iris surprise, he observed that the haiid which held her cup was trembling. Ihe style of her pale green frock was not unduly modern, but Davie, could make out the lines of lier breast and note how unsteadily it rose and fell. He watched the delicate tinting of her throat; and as-he watched, the colour grew deeper. Her blue-eyes were bright, but he saw, too, that they were a little afraid and uncertain. "Bona!" he exclaimed in a curious rough voice. "Bona darling. "Bona —mv own darling!" he whispered, "Let's forget Bill—just for a moment. When he comes back he needn't know about anything, until our job is over. I'll be wanting you like blazes,-Rona, but I'll try—l'll try not to show it." , ... She caught tightly the lapels of his jacket, and her voice was wm f that's splendid You re great, darling! If you would just—wait, afterward, everything would be so much easier." . . . , ~, ~ "Yes I'll wait—after to-night. "Oh," she gasped. "You are a greedy man, David." "Yes. Aren't I?" . , , . But she did not seem to mind his gl Her heart singing and understanding perfectly this big impulsive lover ot hers, Ron a put two fingers over his mouth. She knew now. She had <discovered exactly what she had been wanting to discover. She chuckled deep dotfu in her throat. "David," she whispered, and her cheeks were rosier than ever. W hat a perfectly model husband you re going to be! Oh, darling! Of course, I m not being sarcastic. I believe every little thing you say—especially what you are telling mc now. I'm so happy 1 wantto cry again. Women are queer. Aren t A murmur of talk sounded on the 6tairs and footsteps were to be heard nearing the door of the saloon Ihero was a rattle of a winch on deck as it the nnchor of The Silver Gull were bein" raised, and a rush of noise as the propcllor began to thresh the water. David jumped up from the couch like a startled hare, while Bona, laughing up at him ruefully, began to smooth her- frock and to pat into position the great wave of her shining hail. "Darling!" she whispered. Am la terrible sight? I must have elf locks all around my face." He bent down suddenly and kissed her 'as if he had been denied that very thing for weeks. She gasped as he rose again. . . ... .. -» "Oh, goodness!" she cried. And 1 said von were going to be a model husband! But do tell me before Alice and Jere' come in—is my hair all right. And is mv frock badly creased i "Your hair," said David steadily as he offered her a cigarette, "is lovelier than over it was. And your frock—-is pcrfectlv marvellous. Honest ! n .iun. "You're quite hopeless, David!" She higlied and laughed; but when the two Americans entered the saloon they found John Ralston s daughter and the young farmer smoking, sitting well opart, from one another, and apparently calm'and undisturbed, .lore saw nothih" to indicate the hidden emotions of the'pair. Alice, on the other hand, was a woman and noted immediately and with interest the starry light in Bonn's eves and the remarkable change which had taken place in David's expression. , She smiled a secret smile and accepted a cigarette from the young farmer; and Jere, as lie lit it for her, brought some relief into a strangely tense atmosphere. "We're off," he said. Half-past eLeven and all's well. Me for bed when I finish this smoke. T shall awaken in Stranraer, a town that lies tiom us afar. How's that for poetry? I'm afraid when old Shakespeare iails me 1 in not a very good substitute myself! by gosh!; 1 feel like a poet to-night! What o story, folks! What a story 1 And it's

A STORY OF INTRIGUE, ADVENTURE AND SECRET SERVICE

happening before our very eyes. I can sec the headlines flaring across the front page of my old rag. Great Secret Service Coup. Beautiful Girls and Wealthy Men Play Prominent Parts. Exclusive —" "Oh. Jere!" interrupted Alice Cook. "Do be .quiet! Isn't he incorrigible, Rona!" "Absolutely, dear. I sympathise with you." "Huh!" grunted the big journalist. " 'l' faith, I've ta'en an urnbage! What's this? 'And are you for the feathered couch, my ladies?' Ah, well! Goodnight! I shall unburden my sorrows —and my joys—upon long-suffer-ing MacNeill. Goodnight." David's greeting to Bona, next morning, when she came in for breakfast, was correct and proper; but Alice Cook did not overlook the quick, leaping glance which passed between the pair as they spoke. And in the course of the morning she informed Jere of her discovery. "By gosh!" exclaimed the startled newspaperman. "There will be the devil to pay when Sir William returns!" "I don't think so," answered Alice. "It's my opinion that he kissed her last night. 1 also believe, however, that she persuaded him to keep their secret until after September the seventeenth, so that Bill won't be disturbed in his quest by knowing she doesn't love him. Poor Bill I" "I know: Hard luck on tlio fellow! "But all the same I think David will make Bona happier. He's like you, Jere. A kind of simple, straightforward soul, and —oh, well, I'm sure he's about as good as you are, darling, at making love. You can see it in his eyes."

Jere chuckled. ' After lunch, leaving the girls on board, The Silver Gull, David and Jere went ashore to meet Sir William and Lawson, the Secret Service man. They strolled about the streets of the wellordered clean little town, expecting to encounter the adventures at any moment; but at three o'clock tho pair had not yet put in an appearance. To while away the time, Jere bought the first edition of a Glasgow evening paper, a bill for which had just been displayed outside a stationer's shop in the main street. Standing at the head of the quay in the glare of the sunlight, he regaled the young farmer by reading extracts from the news columns.

Suddenly the big American stiffened. "Gosh!" he exclaimed. "Listen to this, David, it's a short article under a treble column heading, 'Tragedy in Wigtownshire.' Obviously been bunged in at the last moment. Hero you are.

" 'At an early hour this morning it was learned that a shocking tragedy had occurred near Newton Stewart, resulting in the death of one of the best know personages in the South of Scotland, Captain James Turnbull Stephenson, T.D., 0.8. E., Chief Constable of Galloway. It appears that Captain Stephenson, who was a bachelor of about (JO years of age, had spent the evening alcne at his house and had retired early. At about eleven o'clock, however, Mr. Thomas Milhson, the butler, states that he heard his master moving restlessly about the house, and he is ready to swear that someone was admitted at the front door. " 'Afterward Mr. Millson fell asleep; but at six o'clock this morning, when upon his usual round of the house, lie was stunned to discover Captain Stephenson lying in the library stone dead and shot through the back. Though there was no sign of a struggle in the room, all the evidence points to murder; and no trace of the fatal weapon, which is believed to have been a type of airpistol,. could be discovered on the premises.

" ' The preliminary investigations aro in the capable hands of Detective Inspector Mae Kay of Glasgow, who was hastily summoned by the local poliee this morning. Inspector MacKay states that ho would like to get into touch with a, man named MaePhedran, thought to bo a. London business man, who was a frequent visitor to Captain Stephenson's house and who was his guest as recently as yesterday at noon.' " 'There follows," concluded .Tore, "a short biography of the dead man. Tho usual stuff, you know. What do you think of it, David?" "Don't like to think of iB at all, old man." "I wonder —" "You -wonder what, Jere?"

"Oh, nothing. I wish to the Lord that Sir William and Lawson would come along!"

Even as he spoke David clutched his arm. Sir William and Lawson were coming slowly down the right-hand pavement of the main street in the direction of tho quay. ,

CHAPTER XIV THK MAN WlTir.mil-: nAUK-LIP Sir William and Lawson the Secret Service man, were both pale. Their clothes —the politician's blue blazer and white flannels and Lawson's trimly-cut grey suit—were grimy and creased, as if the wearers had slept in them. On the left knee of Sir William's flannels there was a littlo rent, plastered about, by drying mud; while in the eyes of the two adventurers there was a curious wary look, as if at any moment they* expected to be stopped and questioned. None of the pedestrians, however, seemed to take the slightest notice of them, and the pair encountered a policeman, on his boat at tho head of the quay, without appearing to arouse his interest.

David and .Tore, controlling their excitement with ail effort, walked toward their friends and greeted them with a display of nonchalance. Sir William grinned and introduced Lawson to the American. "I'm afraid wo can't talk hero," he said quickly. "Have you got tho lifeboat at the quay? Ah, good! Once Lawson and L have had a hot bath, a shave and a change of raiment we'll lecture your for hours if von like. Besides, if wo were to wait hero much longer we might bo surrounded by newspaper reporters asking awkward questions," Lawson was studying the expressions on the' faces of David and .Tore, and as his companion began to lead the way toward the mooritig-place on the north side <>f the quay, tho Secret Service man spoke quietly. "J. see you have a newspaper there. .Mr. Gibson," lie said. "No doubt there are remarkable statements contained in its columns; but 1 should like to assure you ami Mr. MacNeill here and now, that Sir William and I did not shoot Captain Stephenson." Jere turned and gripped the arm of the dapper little agent.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "We were wondering." David smiled cheerfully. A great load seemed to have been lifted from his heart. He now found time to wonder if, when they wont aboard 'l'he Silver Gull, Sir William would perceive any subtle change in Rona or in himself. Over a cup of afternoon tea, served on deck about half-past four, Sir William gave tho assembled company a swift resume of the adventures which had befallen Lawson and himself during the night.

"When Lawson and I left you last night," he said, "we were rather at a loss as to how to proceed; but we asked a girl in a confectioner's shop—By the way, ladies, Lawson and I actually bought you a gorgeous box of chocolates while wo wore ashore, but in the excitement we forgot about it entirely. I left it lying on the counter, I think." " Never 'mind. Bill," said Rona quietly. "It was very nico of you both to be so thoughtful. But —but what about vour story?"

Tho politician smiled at her, and David caught the warmth and tenderness in his glance. For a moment an overwhelming jealousy entered tho young farmer's mind; but he had crushed it down before it could gain the upper hand of his good sense. "We met this girl," continued Sir William, "and asked her how we could most easily reach that night Captain Stephenson's house. She knew about tho Chief Constable, of course, and told us that he was small and stout, partly bald and of a ruddy complexion which set off to advantage a little grey military moustache: we could not mistake him. Apparently he was a bachelor; and he was not above giving an occasional party, tho female members of which did not meet with tho approval of our little shopgirl. There was a motor-bus, she continued, leaving Wigtown at half-past nine for Newton Stewart, and she advised us to make for it immediately as this was its last run for tho day. After reaching Newton Stewart wo should have a walk of perhaps a couplo of miles beforrt reaching Drongiro, Captain Stephenson's residence. Wo thanked her and passed on to carry out her instructions. " About eleven o'clock wo had located Drongiro, a big squat house with few gables and little outward ornamentation, a building which must have been considered a triumph at one time for the unimaginative Victorian masons. It was surrounded, as far as wo could make out in the darkness, by extensive policies; aful in a huge park behind the house wo could make out tho blurred outlines of a long low shed like a hangar. From tho garden we could feci a glorious scent of roses and chrysanthemums. Funny how tho scent of roses seems to bo thy most beautiful at night. " Lawson and T. reconnoitred carefully the ground between tho road and the house, under cover of a multitude of'rhododendron bushes on tho lawn, crept close up to tho front windows, which, just then, wore in*dead darkness. It was during this period that I tore my perfectly good flannels on a sharp root upon which 1 had tho misfortune to place my knee. (To bo continued daily)