THE GREAT LAROCHE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22833, 14 September 1937, Page 17

THE GREAT LAROCHE

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

THRILLING DRAMA OF SECRET SERVICE

CHAPTER XXV.- (Continued)

Upstairs Von Stalthcim waited impatiently. If his eyes had had the power to look over several hundred miles of land and water, this feeling would have given way to a far more dramatic emotion.

- For history was being written in the country ho served that night.

Only recently back from addressing a, monster demonstration —so carefully stage-managed by his Minister for Propaganda that tho foreign journalist* unanimously declared that they had never seen anything like it —Karl Kuhnroich staggered into his private office in the former royal palace that had been converted to his use, and flung himself into a chair. Ho was at his last ounce of physical strength.® This man, who, by a combination of quick wittedness, deep-rooted patriotism and an amazing strength of opportunism, had risen to the supreme control of one of the greatest nations in the world's history,, had been working for many weeks past with scarcely any sleep. The position with Ronstadt was desperate; like most dictator-gov-erned countries, it had reached a point in its national lifo when the inside economic evils had to be counterbalanced by some gesture so spectacular, so well calculated to take the people's minds off their domestic and private worries that —for the time, at least —they would bo perfectly Willing to draw in their belts and face with more resolution the difficulties of exist-

enco. There was only one method he could use; it'was necessary to inflame the nation's pride. This for several years past—in fact, ever since tho lato war with Caronia —had been humbled in the dust. Ronstadt, always a proud country, had heen forced to bito on the bullet and to wait. For nearly twenty years she had waited, but now, with a self-appointed saviour at her head, she was prepared to go to almost any length in the endeavour to restore her old-time pride. No one knew this better than Karl Kuhnreich. He had risen to powersuch power as the world had never known —on this teaching. had been the resounding not© of practically ©very speech he had made; ho had adopted it as his watchword and his marching song. .From hundreds of loud speakers the slogan "Ronstadt shall live again 1" had been broadcast to the hundreds of thousands of people who had gathered in the great square of Pe at the recent monster demonstration. "Ronstadt shall liv© again!" He had said it—and he must fulfil the promise. For tho past five years his cohorts had been shouting it at every street corner. If he failed to make good his pledge, then he knew he was not only lost but utterly damned. His councillors came in ono by one, looked at the recumbent figure and stood aside whispering to each other. The Chieftain—as Karl Kuhnreich was known not merely throughout Ronstadt but throughout the world—was a strange, contradictory and perplexing personality. He alternated moods of intense physical activity with periods of the darkest despair. Ten minutes before, ho had seemed to the listening multitude to bo an inspired prophet; those who looked at him now in tho secrecy of his own apartment knew that tho deepest depression had taken the place of his previous, almost crazed, excitement. They wera all there —the men who had built him up and made him the great Power ho was to-day—his military chiefs of staffs, his minister for propaganda, tho dynamic minister for air, his minister for economics, his chancellor of the exchequer (a very worried man, this), his travelling ambassadors, his chiefs of tho press bureau, his press censor, hi 3 yes-men—-and, grouped around the room, clad in their sombre uniforms of black leather, his private guards; each man of whom had sworn to sacrifice his own life rather than any harm should come to the Chieftain. All these waited for Kuhnreich to look up. When ho did lift a haggard face, ho asked a question. "What news from London P" It was his minister for foreign affairs, a soutly-built man of the old regime, who answered: "Sir, tho British Government have told Von Friberg that they must have more time to consider the matter." The words sent tho haggard-looking man into a tempest of rage. He sprang to his feet, waved his arms above his head, and became almost incoherent. "Have I not been patient?" ho stormed; "have I not waited? Have I not counselled tho nation to be longstiffciing?" Ho turned to his group of war chiefs. "We march to tho frontier to-night. England shall bo given no further time! And now, gentlemen, I want to be alone—l have much to do." All but one man left tho room. This was Ernst Boehn. The latter, whose jugglery with tho national finances had won not only tho admiration but tho amazement of the outside world, stood as though lie had been turned to stone, j It was common knowledge in Ronstadt that this former bank manager had once said: "I go cither to immortality or to a scaffold." No man in the history of mankind had ever had to tackle a more difficult tfsk than Ernst Boehn. It was his duty to try to balance an enormously increasing expenditure with an alarmingly diminishing credit account. So far—by some means known only to himself—ho had saved his country from overwhelming financial chaos. But now—"What do you want, Boehn?" asked Karl Kuhnreich, harshly. His chancellor of the exchequer stood his ground. "1" liavo given you many warnings, Your Excellency—and now I havo coino to.say my last word." Beneath lowering brows the other motioned him to continue. "Say what you havo to say and gol" ho ordered. "If these military operations, for which you havo just given tho order, arc carried out —then I resign." "Your reasons?" "I havo told you many times, Your Excellency . . . this will mean tho end of all things financial in Ronstadt. Already wo cannot hopo to meet our commitments; ruin stares us in tho face. Wo have been borrowing from ourselves for months past; tho great debt we havo piled up by this schomo of rearmament —"

(COPYRIGHT)

"Stop, you damned croaker 1" stormed his listener ; "you think that Ronstadt can bo prevented marching to her destiny through you?" The other nodded. "I love Ronstadt: I have served her to the best of my ability—but—" Before tho private guards could roach him Ernst Boehn had taken a revolver from his pocket. Two shots rang out —tho guards saw • the Chieftain fall to the floor first. As he did so, Boohn turned the revolver on himself. When they reached him, the former chancellor of the exchequer was dead; tho wound in his forehead testified to that. CHAPTER XXVI. THE PLOT THAT FAILED In spite of the strictest censorship, the news leaked out. The whole of Pe that night became a huge whispering gallery. The most notorious figure in tho world cannot have an attempt made on his life without information being broadcast. - For years the opposing forces to the dictatorship of Karl Kuhnreich had been forced underground, but when the word was spread that the man mainly responsible for tho barbarous methods of cruelty which had kept thdm down was badly wounded —and perhaps dead by this time —they camo to the surface. It was not time yet for them to show their hand —they had to await the chaos which would follow inevitably the dictator's death for that —but they gathered at street corners, in obscure cafes, in small flats to which entrance could only be obtained after a series of secret knocks, in dingy cellars—and in all these places they discussed tho news. . Tho wildest rumours were circulated in spite of tho iron hand of the Minister for Propaganda, who had taken the entire newspaper press of the nation under his control. - It was said, for instance, that the whole of the present government had been wiped out as an act of revenge for the never-to-be-forgotten,, bloodpurge of two years before, when hundreds of tho men who had helped to put Kuhnreich in power _ had been assassinated by the chieftain's orders within a few hours. This rumour was followed by another almost equally sensational. The second was to the effect that Kuhnreich in a fit of remorse through knowing that he could never hope to fulfil one-tenth of the extravagant promises he had made to the Ronstadtian people, had committed suicide.

Heinrich Grose was a good Aryan. That was the principal reason why he had been, able to secure Buch an excellent post in tho Ministry of Propaganda. Many in Pe envied him. He seemed set for promotion; who knew, blessed by such astonishing luck as to have the goodwill of Sturm, the third most powerful man in the whole Of Ronstadt, to what heights he might not climb? Already he was acting on occasion as second secretary to the Minister of Propaganda. To-night, owing to the extraordinary events which had occurred, he was being kept exceptionally busy. From desk to telephone, and frOm telephone back to desk again ho hurried, while in between, as it were, ho fulfilled a multitude of other duties. ( There was more than ever occasion this night for his associates to be jealous of him; clearly it would not be long before ho passed them all by. A bell rang and ho hastened to obey tho summons, picking up notebook and pencil. Sturm, the Minister for Propaganda, was calling upon him for further secretarial work. So it was that a minute later, Arthur Peters, ace agent of the British Secret Service, sat by the side of Gustav Sturm's desk and took notes at tho great man's dictation. As his pencil raced over the smooth paper, a thought flashed through tho secretary's mind: what would Sturm say if he knew the truth? (To be concluded)