CHATEAU SINISTER

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23339, 6 May 1939, Page 19 (Supplement)

CHATEAU SINISTER

By LESLIE BERESFORD •*.

v" . 1 •. ;V (COPYRIGHT)

Author of "The Man From the Airport," etc. A modern story of swiftly-moving adventure wherein romance develops sjde by side with a remarkable mystery.

CHAPTER r.—(Continued) TlflST lay over the sea, too, In l notice*,!)' wlion back at the Chateau, so that the Bay was blotted out It seemed indeed, that the Chateau, on its height, was .surrounded by a wall of utter hlankness, cutting it off from the outside world. And it came to him, almost startlingly, that Caryl was in tlic room with him, and was speaking, when he had imagined himself quite alone.

"There's something I've,been wanting to toll yon nil the evening," but never had a real chance till.now," she.was saying. "A letter caino fop mo this afternoon from London. ~ It's a very-' queer letter. It's about old Atidr6\v/ Payne. I want you to look at it, and tell J mc what you think it reallymeans. ' C

CHAPTER XII. RECALL TO LONDON

The letter he took from her slim fingers was—like the messages containing threats —typewritten. In this case, however, the machine li ad not been used by practised hands, judging by the mistakes in spelling and other typoerrors. Apart from these, it read:

"The writer has some secret information to give you about the man from whom you have received so much, Andrew Fayne. If you want to keep what has come to you from him, you must on no account tell anyone of this letter. You must communicate with the writer, promising the utmost secrecy, and agreeing to his terms, which you will then be told. Do this at once, addressing your letter —A. Smith, 17 Silver Street, Camden Town, London, N.W.1."

From the letter, O'Hara glanced at the envelope in which it had reached Caryl. This bore the ordinary London postmark from the N.W.I, area, and the address was typewritten, and again with slight misspellings, the whole being spaced in quite amateurish fashion.

"Who do you think it's from?" Caryl was asking meanwhile, "and what can they have to tell me about —my poor old relative?"

Then, as if on a sudden inspiration, she offered an answer to her own questions: —

"Could this possibly be from that other man—the one who's disappeared, and —you said —must have known how Mr. Fayne came to bo murdered ?" O'Hara hesitated before answering. The truth, as he knew it from tin* French detective, Caruot, presented a very different picture to the one sho saw. J n no position to enlighten her on that, he saw no reason why he should do so, anyway. Better that she was left in ignorance. But here, with this astonishing letter, the mists of mystery began to roll away a little. O'Hara road between the lines of this typescript, which, of course, must come from Andrew Fayne himself. That, at least, seemed the only possible explanation. Doubtless, feeling safe himself, he was now beginning to disclose the truth to Caryl, having naturally heard she had inherited, possibly with the idea of demanding money from her when his own gave out presently, if indeed for some reason ho might not be in want already. "I think you'd better leave this to mo," O'Hara shelved her inquiry adroitly for the moment. > "Whoever sent it, and whatever the sender purposes to toll you,* it is certain that you must not answer it." "Then how shall we find out what it's all about?" she questioned frowning. '" " '"" " "I'll do that," he answered, and tapped the letter with a forefinger. "We've got an address here, don't forget. If a letter from you would reach the sender there, a visit from me would have an even better effect. It would get at the rock bottom truth right away, and we'd know where we really stood. So —that's my move." "You mean that you'll go to London?" "Bight away ..." His mind, quickly at work on ways and means, caused him to modify that statement.

"At least, I'll get away to-morrow. Lucas, the pilot you met to-night will be flying back to London at about midday. Ho wanted me to hop over with him, but I turned him down. It's a good thing, after all, he has had to wait till to-morrow. One of those rare instances when accidents prove unexpectedly useful.'" "I'll pack a few things to-night, and bo ready to go with you," he heard her saying in a matter-of-fact way which not only surprised him. but went contrary to his ideas.

"You're not wanted," he told her bluntly, and —as he saw she was about to protest—added: "You can't go, anyhow. You re hostess here, don't forgot. You've Bittenberg and his film-crowd to look after —"

"Not Julius," slio interrupted him. "Tt so happens he had a telegram from the Pcrfecta people to-day, calling hjm to London for a conference. His first remark to me, when wo found Mr. Hussein was going away, was that he could do the London trip with an easier mind. Virginia's going with him, too. The others. I'm sure, would be all right till wo came back." "In that case, there's no reason why you shouldn't go to London." lie had to admit, so that she laughed with a faint touch of irony. "Says Caesar with priceless condescension!" She took a step nearer to him, and went on: "Don't you think it's ahout time you treated me less like an infant in arms?" "What way?" He became indignant as well a« surprised. "Trying to persuade me that T must stay round here, when this letter's come to 1110 from London, and it's only right I should know exactly what lies behind it." "That may be your right, and you'd got to know it in the end," he explained his attitude. "Still, that doesn't, mean you ' personally should have anything to do with—the person who sent that letter. The more you Rtay in the background, in fact, the better." ' . - ■■■ . "Why?" she challenged him. 'lts niv business-—" "So it is. And, if I'm not mistaken, a dangerous business as well. That's why 1 want you to keep well out of it. leaving tilings to me —" "And let you get what should rightly

(To be continued daily.)

come to ma?" she questioned, and flung a surptfpo' at. him: "Yon think jffecloiVt hud. one .of tjioso. 'threatening linages ■ planted'- on to a last evenrag? 'Julius lias told nie. ■ "He shouldn't have.told you." "Why".not? .When I first of all let you in on this queer trouble of mine, it. wasn't with any idea of passing tnv danger on to you. If I'd thought that was coming, I'd have kept my own counsel, shown you politely round the , and -let you go on your way to "L'oridon." "AH this tjxlk.geta us nowhere — ;h'e was'protesting 'when she interrupted llimr—, , "Yes; it. 'does. It gets us to the understanding that —at least —I'm to be told everything/' not *■ just what you think, T, ought to .know.. -For instance, ; what about :that secret hiding-place •jh the room Julius isusing?" "So he's shown you that, has he? I told him —"

; "Come down • off your high • throne, Caesar!" she silenced his angry protest. "Julius told me about it all when we knew we weren't going to the Villa St. Pierre to-night. He said it was your idea to keep it from me, so I didn't go to the villa knowing there was a link between Mr. Hussein and that strange old relative of mine." "Then, as Bittenberg seems to havo told you all that," O'Hara shrugged, "we'd better go right along and set 1 what the link really is, don't you think?"

"Julius is waiting upstairs for us now."

As she turned toward the door, it opened, and the film-director came hurriedly in, obviously in a state of considerable agitation. "Looks like we made a bad move, going into Biarritz to-night, and leaving this old chateau to Jook after itself," he announced, to be interrupted sharply by Caryl: "Why, we didn't do that, Julius. Old Henri and Simone were here —" "So they are now. I've just found them. Virginia wanted some hot water for a voice gargle, and couldn't mako the old folk hoar. Got me on the trail, looking for tliem. We've most of us been a good quarter of an hour searching. Came'on them at last, shut up in an out-house, off the kitchens. .. All trussed like two fowls, and gagged—" "Where are the poor things?" Caryl was out in the hall when Bittenberg laid a hand reassuringly on her arm. "Don't get scared. They're iftll right. Been given an injection .of some dope, 1 take it. The others'! iare seeing after them. We'll look them up presently. The reason for it is the'most important thing. Come along with me—"

He went striding up the great stairway, with the others following, till he came to tliu door of the bedroom he was occupying. Before they had quite reached this, O'Hara had an inkling of what was meant.

"That hide-up—" he was saying as Bittenberg 'flung open the door, and he knew he was right. Tlio heavily carved panelling to the left of the fireplace had been opened up.; Quickly, o!Hara crossed the floor, peering into ilio dark void of the interior, turned to find Bittenberg shruggi»g- • • - "it was like that when I came up, just before Virgie started calling me," lie said drily. "The story of old Mother Hubbard up-to-date. 'When she got there—the cupboard was bare.' " So entirely empty was the secret hid-ing-place that O'Hara might well have dreamed he had ever seen money, jewels, or anything else in there. Most important of all whatever clue to the link between-Olu Man Fayne and Yousef Hussein had been contained within that sealed packet, all that was left was the memory. There could be only one explanation. Yousef, having stage-managed an open departure from the neighbourhood in the afternoon, was able to perpetrate the theft, unsuspected of any such plan. 1 x Old Henri and Simone could give not the slightest 'clue to the identities of those—they believed two people—who had overcome them. They bad neither seen nor heard anyone when suddenly attacked from behind.

YousePs coup could hardly have been more complete and unexpected. But it raised several questions in the mind of O'Hara which ho. discussed with Bittenberg, while Caryl was attending to the recovery of her old servants. "One thing is certain," O'Hara said. "Somehow or other Yousef got to know of that bide-up. But how? And, again, when? If bo's known it for some time, why didn't he raid it long ago, at a time when the Chateau was more or less empty, instead of waiting till now, when it was full?"

"But—when the theft was staged, the Chateau was practically empty,'' Uittenberg reminded him. "By pure chance," O'Hara reminded him.in turn. "If Caryl hadn't insisted on some sort of change for the evening, would't.wu.sill,liave been here? TelLme, how was Yousef —whom we'd already seen leaving the place bv car —to "know wo wore all going into Biarritz?" "It boats me," Bittenberg had to admit, then said: "That other point you raised wants thinking about too. How did Yousef get to know of this hide-up? Old Man Payne would havo kept it secret, enough." . - One could explain that. There's always, the chance that the carpenter he'd • had in to make the secret safo may have talked about it after Old Man Fayne died, and Yousef came to bear of it. But I don't think one need bother about that side of the affair. What worries me is that Yousef made that raid ' to-night, and so completely getting into' the place without being soon and hoard—"

"It certainly shows that there's not s6 much police protection about the place as your French Surete man pro--lliised there should be," Rittenberg suggested. "You'd have thought they'd have stopped people entering the place and getting away with a haul like that —no doubt having a car waiting for .them and the 100t —" "I wonder—?" O'Hara, suddenly alert- and vitally interested. "If they had a oar? Why, how could they carry off that heavy stuff—" "It depends which way they got_ in and got out,*' O'Hara interrupted him. "I've just remembered that, when T was a boy hero, -there used to be an old secret way into the Chateau. I've used it, myself. It came from a cave in that little' cove below—"