THE GREAT LAROCHE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22822, 1 September 1937, Page 23

THE GREAT LAROCHE

CHAPI'ER Xl. (Continued) Providing one pays well enough—and Horst at this time was well supplied with money—it is surprising how much information can be obtained. Accompanied by three members of his gang, all of whom he knew he could trust, he had gone down to Hampshire that night to spy out the land. Well hidden, he had watched the three prisoners taken aboard the house-boat. The fact that he had been ablo<to recognise one of these —-Peter Kenton, the young British secret agent—assured him of the identity of the other two. Laroche had brought off a big coup; ho had snatched the inventor Marvo and that crazy idealist's niece from under the very nose of tho British Intelligence! Yet there was nothing to be done about it. Laroche had too heavy a bodyguard on that damned house-boat for tliero to be any chance of success if lie attempted to storm the place with his three lieutenants. Yet he was reluctant to leave. Here was a golden opportunity to secure some valuable booty and to score off the man who was now his bitter enemy at one and the same time. Jt was while lie was watching the house-boat that he saw an apparition that made him rub his eyes; a girl dressed in a bathing costume emerged from the water and started to half run, half walk away from the houseboat. Tho light was bad, but yet he i was able to recognise in this girl the sister of Peter Kenton. Instantly his mind supplied tho solution to what first had appeared a mystery; she had tracked her brother's captors, and was now 011 her way to get help. To a man liko Horst a quick oliango about is always possible; ho did not mind very much what swam into his net so long it promised to be valuable. He would have liked, of course, to have taken I'etor Kenton and the inventor Marve away from Laroche and to have kept them prisoners in a hide-away of his own; but, as that now appeared impossible, he was content with securing another " bag." This girl was not only attractive in herself and therefore of potential value to certain people with whom ho frequently had dealings, but she was also engaged in a very important department of the British Secret Service. She would have information that could bo sold . . . * * x * • Edward Horst smiled evilly as he walked down tho dark steps. The girl rose as ho entered the room. " I hope you have come to give me an explanation," she said resolutely. Yes, she was a fine young animal, ho decided, as his avid look took in all her spirited young beauty. " I have come to make you a proposition, my dear," he replied; "sit down." " I prefer to stand, thank you." " As you please. But before 1 go any further, I think I should give you this warning; it won't pay you in tho long run to maintain your present; attitude. I have the whip hand—a fact you appear to forget—and I intend to use it. Is that quite clear?" She stood silent. " All right—but I have warned you." He himself took the only chair in the place and straddled his leg across it, leaning hi.'i arms on the back. " Your name is Susan Kenton, isn't it?" " Yes." She did not see that there could be any harm in admitting that much. "And you're employed in some capacity in tho Q.l. branch of tho British Secret Service?" She made no reply to this. " And you'ro the sister of Peter Benton who is also employed in that Department?" Again no reply. The man's voice became menacing. " You won't gain anything by maintaining that attitude," he said. "I've got a proposition to make to you and if you're a sensible girl j'ou'll agree to my terms." CHAPTER XH. JACQUAKD EXPLAINS It was the memory of her brother being held a helpless prisoner that induced Susan to reply. "What do you mean —terms?" she said. "I'll put it very briefly," stated Horst. "I offer you jour freedom—and my help in rescuing your brother —in return for certain information." "What kind of information?" "Before J tell you that, 1 want to know what work you do at Q. 1." She shook her head. "That's impossible," she said. "Then it's also impossible for' mo to carry on this conversation. I won't waste any more time, iVliss Benton. Either you give me the information 1 lequire about certain codes used by your Department of British Intelligence or—" he leaned toward her —"do you know what happens to the majority of joung women who mysteriously disappear from London and other great English cities?" There was so much overt malice in the question that she shrank away from him. "If you don't know, I'll tell you," went on the relentless voice. "They are shipped; to certain ports in South America." She put her hands behind her hack to prevent him from seeing how they wero trembling. This man was going to make a white slave of her! That was the threat behind his words. Unless she became a traitress . . . but that, of course, wan unthinkable 1 Although it seemed that the walls of that room wero closing about her, she gave her answer in a firm, unfaltering voice. I "I'll see you in hell first!" she said. ***** * Peter Benton, after leaving Sir Harkcr Bellamy, walked into Whitehall and looked about him for a taxicab. He was feeling practically all in. Although lie dreaded going home, he felt he must have a bath and some sleep before ho could even begin to tackle the problem of Susan's disappearance. It was just when ho was about to open the door of the taxi that had drawn up near the kerb, that he felt his shoulder touched. Turning round quickly, ho saw tho smiling face of Bene J acq ua rd. The French secret service agent, who had rendered him such a signal service only a few hours before, prefaced his remarks with an apology. "I hope 1 don't intrude, my young friend?" he said. "Not at all! I'm only too glad to see you—if you haven't anything better to do, come back to my flat and we'll have a talk." He felt ho wanted to unburden himself concerning his sister to this man of much greater experience than himself. Jaequard had already proved himself a master at his job that evening, and perhaps—-well, who knew? "Thank you, I shall lie delighted," answered the Frenchman. v When the -t.aXi had got under way, Benton made his companion smile by saying: "1 suppose you are Rene. J acq ti nrd and not the Pope or Mussolini?" The Frenchman laughed out loud. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "Well, you mode such a good job of being Von Staltheim to-night that 1 wouldn't be prepared to swear you weren't tho devil himself I"

By SYDNEY HORLER Author of •' Tiger Standish," "'The Evil Chateau/* etc., etc.

THRILLING DRAMA OF SECRET SERVICE

(COPYRIGHT)

"Non! Non!" expostulated tlio other; "for the moment I am really myself. Rene Jacquard, and very much at your service." # # « « » « Arrived at tlio flat which lie shared with his; sister, lieuton put some more coal on the fire—for the night had turned chilly—waved his visitor to a chair, placed drinks and cigarettes by his elbow and seated himself opposite Jacquard. After that, he could no longer curb his impatience. "I'm terribly worried, Jacquard," he broke out —"my sister —sho'a only a kid of nineteen —went on this job to-night against my wishes and Bellamy's strict instructions and"—bere he choked back a lump in his throat—"she's disappeared I" "Larocho?" shot back the Frenchman instantly. "I suppose so . . . Just listen to me for a couple of minutes, will you?" "J. will listen all night," replied the other. When his young host had come to an end. Jacquard shook his head. "No, 1 do not think Laroche has your sister," ho said—and proceeded to tell his own story. Apparently this had not been his only visit to England during the past few weeks. He had crossed the Channel on no fewer than six occasions in that period. The first trip had nothing to do with his regular work of counter espionage. A particularly brutal murder had been committed in a Soho street given over almost entirely to the foreign underworld. A man whose international record as a white-slaver was so abominable that it was an affront to all human decency, had been discovered with his throat cut, the body hanging from a hook in the ceiling of the dingy bedroom which, it was quickly proved, was in the occupation of a French street-walker. At first the view of tho police inclined to suicide, but the expert medical evidence soon dispelled that. Claude Boisset, the man in question, had been murdered ! "How I came into the affair —strictly incognito of course" —went on Jacquard to explain, "was because when, within three days your admirable Scotland Yard made an arrest, I was asked by my former Chief to come to London to identify the assassin." "Why was that? Was he a spy?" queried Kenton, whose anxiety of mind was being relieved somewhat by the story to which he was listening. "He had been a spy, this canaille," returned Jacquard. "He was a renegade Frenchman employed by a certain power—you can guess, perhaps, the country in question —and as a result of a sentence imposed on him in Paris had been sent to Devil's Island for fifteen years. Ho was one of the few who managed to escape from that place of the damned—don't think for a moment," the Frenchman broke off, "that I am entirely in agreement with the system practised in that penal colony. After his escape he managed to get to America via Venezuela, and, in the course of time, arrived :in London. It is a pity, my friend, that your authorities do not exercise more supervision over the criminal aliens who are allowed to enter your shores; but that's by the way. "You will wonder, I suppose, what all this has to do with the disappearance of your sister to-night? But, patience, my friend: I shall be making; my explanation quite soon now. "After identifying the assassin I stayed in London for two days. Your city has always fascinated me—it is so unlike Paris. And, being on what you describe as a busman's holiday, I spent a great deal of time in Soho which, as yon know, is the headquarters of the London underworld. It was there tlvat I heard stories concerning the breach which had occurred between our mutual friend Pierre Laroche and a former chief lieutenant of his named Horst. Tlio latter and the dead white slaver Boisset had been associates —I will say this fpr Laroche," the speaker broke off again to comment, "that, speaking by and large, he has kept his hands fairly clean of the traffic in human flesh." The speaker paused to light another cigarette and to drink half of the whisky and soda which stood on a small table on the right hand sido of his chair. "These two crooks—Larocho and Horst—had quarrelled over the usual thing: money. Apparently Horst believed that he was entitled to a bigger fihare of the 6poiis in a certain coup than ho had received; and being a man of tremendous ambition (ho fancies himself, the fool, to be a criminal Napoleon) he had cried defiance to his former superior and the two had parted. "Now I come to my point: it is possible, I submit, that Horst got to learn through his spies that Laroche was planning something big to-night—and that he himself was not far away from that houseboat ori the River Hamble. Supposing he had seen your sister? — from your own story it must have been she wiio sent you that message in Morse —and supposing again, that, denied of the bigger prize (Marve, his niece and your good self), Horst had —" Kenton broke in with words of j alarm. i "If that's so—she's in the hands of a notorious white-slaver! Oh God! What I shall I do?" The Frenchman roso and patted him on the shoulder. "Tlio essential rule to be regarded in a case like this is to keep your selfcontrol, my young friend; I shall be staying in London myself for another couple of days. I will go disguised into the Soho underworld to-morrow and I will learn all that is possible. Believe me, if Horst has your sister in his power, 1 shall get to know about it. That I promise you I" There was so much calm conviction in the Frenchman's voice that, almost in spite of himself, Kenton felt re-assured. lie held out his hand and the other gripped it. "Thank you," he said simply . . ."I don't know what else to say to you." The Frenchman resumed his chair. "I have something yet to add —no. it is not about your sister. It is about the visit of Major Oscar von Staltheim to that houseboat to-night." Jacquard's eyes twinkled as he spoke. With a tremendous effort Kenton put aside his fears. It would be churlish to dwell on his own woes when his visitor was so obviously intent on giving a dramatic version of his exploits that night. "Yes, that is what I want to hear." he saifl. Jacquard warmed to the words like an actor responding to tlio applause of an audience. "The story has its points, I think," lie returned. "I've already told you that I crossed on tlio same steamer as Paul Marve to-day and that \ was mortified when I realised that Laroche had got tlio man away so cleverly. I should have disclosed myself to you at Dover —but did not think it politic. "By what means I was able to traco Laroche and his prisoners to that houseboat on the Hamble, I regret I am not at liberty to disclose, for it would mean giving away secrets that belong exclusively to the French Government." Kenton nodded. "That is understandable, of course." Like every other European country, the French had their own espionage system in Fngland, although the two countries were allies. It would be too much to expert Jacquard to play false to his own employers. "lint this I will say," continued the Frenchman, "that I was not only able to locate Lnroeho's hideaway, but .1 actually wont on board! Yes," smiling broadly at Kenton's stare of astonishment. "I went on board that houseboat disguised—as what do you think?" (To be continued daily)