THE GREAT LAROCHE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22823, 2 September 1937, Page 21

THE GREAT LAROCHE

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

CHAPTER XII— (Continued) "Goodness only knows I" returned l'eter Kenton; " as I told you about an hour ago. I'm not quite sure that you're not Old Nick himself!" "Were I to toll you everything it would be easily explained," commented Jacquard. "I took one assistant with inc. Ho was dressed as a country English policeman whilst 1 attained to the rank of sergeant!" At the memory the speaker burst into a roar of laughter that shook his stout body. "The great Laroclie Avas hospitality itself; he never suspected for a moment, t am ready to sWear, that we were anything but what lie believed us to be. I invented a story of some children being frightened by his black cook—a man named Kuhn—and we parted the best of friends. "It was when I got back to my local headquarters that I received a telephone message in code from—now who do you think, Monsieur Kenton?" "Don't ask me any more questions!" implored Peter, "my head is dizzy as it is. I suppose, Monsieur Jacquard, that one day you will be writing your memoirs?" "Perhaps," admitted the other, "but why?" "Well if you do, and I am still living —which seems doubtful at the moment —I should like to do the preface." "Admirable!" declared Jus visitor; "I will bear your suggestion in mind." "But I interrupted you —I'm sorry," said Peter.

"The message—need I say it was in code? —was sent me by an agent i had planted in the Konstadtian Embassy." He waited for the expression of surprise which duly came.

"If you go on like this, I shall really think that you have sold yourself to the Devil," commented his host. "What did your agent say?"

"He told me that a message had been received at the Embassy to the eflect that the Dictator of Konstadt wished to have the inventor Marve brought to him at Pe. Laroche was to hold him and the other two captive until Major Oscar von Staltheim arrived at midnight. That explains," the speaker went on, " why Laroche did not get on with his torturing at the first interview he had with you on board the house-boat." " Yes —I must admit that was a bit puzzling; but now it's quite clear," remarked Kenton.

The Frenchman chuckled. " What more natural thing to do than for me to take the place of von Staltheim?" he asked. "At my local headquarters I had the necessary clothes and means of make-up. _ A woman agent meanwhile was keeping the real military attache occupied." " Do you mean to say that Laroche never tumbled?" "Tumbled?" repeated the Frenchman. " Oh, I don't suppose you'd understand that. It means saw through you." " No, he never saw through me. At least, when he did I had got the upper hand. The rest you know," concluded the Frenchman, rising. " You must not despair," he said, as the two parted; " remember that I shall be working on your side to-inor-row in the Soho underworld—directly I have any news I will let you know. Forward to victory, bon vietix!" he said with the first hint of melodrama as ha turned to go. CHAPTER XIII THE VOICE ON THE WIRE There was no sleep for Peter that night the flat seemed haunted: haunted by a thousand memories of the sister who perhaps he would never see again' Jacquard had a magnetic personality, but now the man was gone he had taken his magic with him: on sober reflection what did his sportsmanlike pledge of help actually amount to? Just this: he had promised no more and no less than what any out of a dozen Scotland Yard detectives would have promised in similar circumstances. It was useless Peter decided, to attach too much importance to what the Frenchman had said.

Then, just as he was beginning to opine that the world was nothing less than a huge pit of despair, he had a feeling of hope. In order to give tin's every encouragement he mixed himself a stiff drink. Experience told him that sometimes out of human enmities the most unexpected results sometimes accrued. Perhaps Jacquard had been right after all. Then, once again, he felt plunged back into a mortifying sense of lielpnessness. This story about the man Horst! Even if it were true that Horst had parted with Laroche, there seemed no real foundation for Jacquard's theory that Horst had been anywhere near the house-boat that night. The plain fact was that Susan had vanished into the blue. If she had been free to do so, she surely would have got into touch with him somehow or other? She knew how worried he would be.

Well, on one point he was determined: until Susan was found —until ho had reliable information as to her fate —he would devote himself exclusively to trying to solve this mystery. Somebody else would have to do tho safeguarding of Paul Marve —he wished to heaven that he had never seen tho fellow.

His drink finished, he looked toward the door. There seemed no point in staying up; his body, at least, would be rested in bed even if his mind remained in a tumult. Sleep was out of the question, he felt certain, but the ordinary routine of existenco might as well he followed. Until morning came— And then, shattering the silence liko a bomb the telephone rang. Susan! Perhaps she had managed to get to a telephone! With a hand that shook he took off tho receiver. And this is what lie heard: "Peter!" It was a woman's voice—but whether it belonged to his sister ho could not determine; it was too racked with anguish, too shaken by fear for him to bo positive on the point. es it's Peter speaking. Where are 3 r ou, darling?" " They've got me . . . they've got me ..." This was torture unbearable; the suspense was tearing his nerves to shreds. . "Where are you? Where are you?" he shouted. I hen another voice answered—this time it was a man's. " Is that Mr. Kenton?" " Yes. . . Who are you?" A laugh answered him. " The price is ten thousand pounds Do you hear me? Ten thousand pounds?" Before he could say anything to this astonishing statement the line had gone dead. * * # * n In the private room of the West End nursing home, to which Paul Marve had been taken, Sir Kobert Pertwee turned on his two companions. " I'm afraid that so far, gentlemen, 1 cannot hold out much hope," said

THRILLING DRAMA OF SECRET SERVICE

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tlio famous consultant. " In this patient id we have a man," ho went on without waiting for the Minister of War, or the Chief of Q.l. of the British Intelligence to make any comment, " who has . evidently been living on his nerves — 1 and on very little else, I'm afraid—- | for a good many years. The crisis h comes and he has little or no resistI- ance ... lie may live for a few days ic longer, or the end may be quite near," ic the physician concluded. >r The Secretary for War made a characteristic outburst. r y " But Sir Kobert, the situation is k serious—so serious that I cannot possiblv exaggerate it," ho said, gesticulat- ' ing with his hands. "In Marve's brain there is a secret which is of the most " vital importance to the future safety n of this country. Everything depends st upon this man being made to speak. He is an inventor, who has been workU ing on something which lie says is so 10 terrible that it will cut out all future u possibilities of nations going to war—and ] want it for this country. Ho ~ had an assistant named Jervais, but we heard this morning from Paris that ' this man had been assassinated. How much he was made to disclose before |r he was murdered we do not know—but I have told you enough, I think, to it make you realise that this matter is of the utmost urgency." 1£ t Sir Kobert Pertwee listened without jinterruption until the end. Then he made his contribution. " I'm afraid that Nature does not concern herself with things of this sort tj —although I realise, as you say, that the matter is of the highest possible importance. But medical science can do n no more; the man's mind is a complete d blank. As you have seen for yourself " this morning, he's still unconscious and • e nothing that we can do can arouse him. It is my belief that he will gradually y drift into death . . . his heart is very " weak. If you would care to have other ! opinions, of course, I shall be delighted 1 to call in whoever you may suggest." Sir Harker Bellamy turned away n somewhat impatiently. He was sick of the whole business. Besides, what good d would it be to have other opinions?— >° Pertwee was generally acknowledged to bo the best medical man in the whole >r of London. I- "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I it shall have to go —there are many things h waiting for me at my office." ie With a nod to the physician and an- " other to Hathaway lie opened the door it and walked out into the corridor. " Was there anyone who was carrying such a load as hiraself at the present moment, he wondered. In the whole [o of his forty years in the Secret Service ji he could not remember a more testing d time than this. Although he had not v voiced the opinion to Hathaway, secretly he was not sorry that events had turned out as they had done. They might have been on a stumer if Marve had not had his breakdown; after all, 10 they merely had his word —but no actual proof—for what he claimed. The l * fellow might be a charlatan or just one of those crazy self-deceivers with which the world now seems to abound. " Bellamy had walked only a dozen t yards or so along the corridor, when r a door opened on the right, and a girl, d after staring at him lor a moment, caught his arm. I " Oh, Sir Harker," she exclaimed, | and now he was able to see that the girl who had spoken to him was the . niece of the man on whom Sir Kobert Pertwee had so recently passed a sen- : tence of ueath. " Good morning, Miss Norris," he 0 said —and if his voice was curt, it merely reflected his thoughts. " Would you kindly toll me how my uncle is this morning." " I'm afraid he is very ill—l've just left the specialist." Then a thought . came to him. " Come along to my office my dear; I should like to have • a word with you." He felt this was necessary. Duty— 1 r that stern mistress—was prompting. I ■Perhaps the girl could tell him some- j , thing that might prove later to be j 1 of service. " You can do no good here l —l've a taxi outside," ho said, "if f you'll come out with me." : He began his questions almost as s soon as she was seated. ] " How much did you know of your 1 uncle's work, Miss Norris?" She shook her head. " I'm afraid I knew very little. All j he told me was that he was working on something to prevent war." " He did not go into any details?" ' " No. Ho always kept that sido of 3 his life away from me—perhaps bet cause he was afraid I might be wors ried." f " Yes." It did not seem that this ; interview was going to yield anything . of importance. Still, he put yet one ; more question. " You cannot toll me, then, anything about the particular invention which [ brought your uncle to London?" Again she shook her head. " I'm afraid I cannot, Sir Harker"— and then her mind switched to another subject. "Is my uncle going to die, Sir | Harker—please tell me the truth," sho | pleaded. He decided it would bo better if he j were blunt. " Sir Kobert Pertwee, the consult- j ing physician, can give us very little j hope." While her face was buried in her j hands, the door opened and Peter ! Kenton entered. She heard Bella my address this newcomer, although she did not yet know j his identity. " Good morning, Kenton—l'm afraid there's still no news of your sister." ! The girl looked up. Peter Kenton, j the man who had brought her over from Paris, was looking ten years older than his real age. There were haggard I lines round his mouth and his eyes j were weary. " Good* morning," she faltered. "Good morning, iNliss Norris." FTe spoke like one who found everything in life a burden. The telephone oil Bellamy's desk rang. The Chief of Q.l. took off the receiver and listened. " T.'m afraid 1 must lcavo you for a minute," he said briskly, and without further explanation, got up and left the room. Elsie Norris summoned all her courage. "Excuse me," she said —""but has anything happened to your sister, Mr. Kenton?" He stared dully in front of him. "She's disappeared —some, devil's I got hold of her." " Oh! Has it anything to do with — my uncle?" | " I'm afraid it has," was the curt ! response. " You remember when we I were imprisoned on that houseboat that j someone signalled to me in Morse?" | " Yes . . . oh, of course, you said it | was your sister . . " She was captured while trying to | get away to bring us help—" He could | get no further. ; S The girl who bad been listening to J him rose from her chair. " Oh, I'm most terribly sorry—can't anything be done?" * And then, because this man's troubles seemed almost equal to her own, she | obeyed an instinctive impulse and flung I her arms around his neck. So might | she have tried to comfort a brother if f she had possessed such a relation. I "It's all my fault—l shouldn't have || allowed my uncle to come to London," 11 she cried. " Hush, my dear," said Peter Ken- §| ton —and his voice was very kind. p (To be continued daily) B