THE SECOND BARONET.

Otago Witness, Issue 3609, 15 May 1923, Page 52

THE SECOND BARONET.

THE NOVELIST.

[Published by Special Arrangement.]

By

LOUIS TRACY,

Author of “The House of Peril,” ‘The Postmaster’s Daughter,” “No. 17, Etc., etc. (Copyright.) Copyright for the Author in the United States and Canada bv Edward J. Clode. 156 Fifth avenue, New York, U.S.A. CHAPTER X.—THE “YARD” PLAYS A FORCING GAME. Furneaux’s eyes sparkled like a pair of black diamonds.

“Good girl !” ho cackled. “Captain Jameson, go with them to the station. While Captain Pelham is buying the tickets —’’ he broke, off suddenly and whirled round on Pelham. “Have you enough money in your pocket?”

“Over twenty pounds. But—” “No ‘buts’ ! Listen to me, please! You buy the tickets and take Miss Daunt straight to a compartment in the train. Captain Jemeson will forage for a bottle of milk, same sandwiches, and a whisky and soda, which he will bring to you Miss Daunt must sip the milk, which will soon relieve the soreness caused by the gag. I’ll telephone Mr and Mrs Henry Wood, and have them meet you at Lynd hurst-rd. They’re on the ’phone, and 1 have their number. If they don’t believe my fairy-tale, I’ll send the local supierintendent to reassure them. But they’re nice people, aren’t they?” “Yes,” said Pelham.

Furneaux shot a grateful glance at him, for the little man feared he might voice some scruple born of convention. “The point is,” he confided to Phyllis, that you are known to have been kidnapped, and I want you to remain so, only in more pleasant surroundings. I’m sorry, but 1 dare not trust your aunt with any knowledge of the real facts. Your absence will worry her, of course, and I’ll promise to relieve her anxiety at the first practicable moment —tomorrow, if possible. At any rate, I’ll ’phone you early at Lyndhurst. Now, be off ! You have twentyfive minutes to reach Waterloo.”

In order to gain the staircase they had to pass through the front room, where three sulky prisoners awaited Furneaux’s leisure. The girl looked at them, halted, and was evidently about to speak when the detective told her, with needless emphasis, Pelham thought, that she must not hold any communication with them. He came to the landing, however, and inquired amiably what she had wished to say.

Only that I bear them no ill-will,” she replied. “I really think they have done me a favour on balance.”

“I suspected something of the kind,” he grinned, “but your gratitude, though far from misplaced, might have proved awkward for my purposes at this moment.

Ihe eyes of the two met in an understanding smile, while the others were frankly puzzled. Winter’s taunt was cerfcamly justified then. Furneaux had an intuitive knowledge of a woman’s heart, winch too often governs her head. Pile taxi-driver was not at all astonished when torn to force the pace across the liver. As he informed his mates on the rank where he took supper : “I knew there was goin to be dirty work at the cross roads when a lot o’ swell 'tecs rushed the ouse in Berners-st. I guessed there’d be a woman in it, too. There always is—• often mare’n one.”

I wonder where those young fellows to °k er to?” said one of his friends. I ) a xed no questions, so was told no lies ! he replied. “She was a bit of all right, though. Nothink wrong wiv ’er' But my job was official, see! I just collected a double fare an’ .shut up.” The three in the taxi did not attempt to talk coherently during the drive. For one thing, Phyllis could not articulate without pain; for another, they were tearing alonoat such a rate that they expected a smash at each corner. They caught the train comfortably, and Jameson came with the refreshments, adding some grapes on his ovvn initiative. Pelham secured the piivacy of a first-class compartment by the usual means. WJhilci they were waiting for the train to start, Jameson thrust head and shoulders through the open window. “I say, Arthur,” he murmured, “do vou move at a gallop all the time?” It looks like it old chap. Many thanks for what you’ve done.”

“Me ! I’ve done nothing. Now- I’ll eat a solitary chop, and muse on the vicissitudes of fate.”

“No. Ring up Winter. He’ll probably invite you to dinner, and you'll hear something. I rather think he wants you. You know everything that I know, aiid it’s absurd to pretend any longer that my—er—my cousin is not mixed up with those scoundrels in some extraordinary way.”

“Right-o ! i’ll lie at the ‘Rag’ for lunch. Give me a call. By-bye, Miss Daunt. Hope you like being kidnapped twice in one day.” The train moved off. The rain-clouds were sped, and London looked trim and smokeless in the evening sunshine. Phyllis being a healthy young person, was not only drinking milk, but nibbling at a sandwich. Pelham’s whisky and soda was contained in a soda-water bottle, and tasted like nectar. They hardly exchanged a word until the train was whirring through Wimbledon. Then Phyllis’s woman’s mind evolved the inevitable question: “Where in the

world are we going, and what will your friends say?”

“They’re splendid. Mrs Wood will greet you as a sister. She and her husband have been my best friends for years.” Phyllis did not follow up this opening. Gag or no gag, she felt that calm speech w-as a necessity. “How did you find out where I was?” she inquired. “I don’t know, but I think I can make an accurate guess. From the fact that Furneaux was thoroughly posted, as to a telegram I sent to Lyndhurst this morning and the reply by the Woods, I take it that no telegram or telephone message to or from anyone of the name of Pelham, or otherwise connected with the affairs of Cedar Lodge, has escaped the attention of Scotland Yard during the past fortnight. Moreover, you must have been watched most carefully.” “Watched f” “Safeguarded, I mean. So, when you were carried off—but tell me, at least in a few words, how that was done.” “It was perfectly simple. I would never have believed that one could be tricked so easily, and whisked into captivity, in London—in broad daylight—out of a fashionable, hotel. You remember that on the day I first saw you I was going to the Academy with a girl-friend?” “Yes. You met her after leaving me in Soho. ’ ’ “Well, about half-past four—good gracious, only three hours ago—l received a telegram. Here it is.’’ Pelham read : Calling for you in a car at five sharp. Do come for an hour’s spin. I’ll wait for you at the door.—Gwen. “Well,” said Phyllis, “that sounded reasonable enough after a wet morning. I w-as on the steps of the hotel when a smart car drove up, with a man in livery by the side of the chauffeur. I’he footman hopped off and ran to meet me 30 the hotel attendant did not interfere Someone wearing a hat and dress like Gwen’s was seated in the limousine, and waved at me but, of course, I remembered too late that her hand concealed her face. ‘Miss Daunt?’ said the man. ‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Miss Townsend's car,’ he said. Naturally I followed him across the pavement. He held the door open and I had rny foot on the step when I saw that the woman inside w-as a total stranger, and an ugly one, too, being the wretched creature who mounted guard over me in—what street was it?” “Bernors-st.” “I was going to say something, but the man pushed me in, followed, and the car started. I found myself struggling against the fumes of chloroform, while a sponge soaked with it was held over my mouth and nostrils. I screamed once, but that was all. The next thing I knew I was in that horrid room, tied to a chair and gagged, though I must admit they promised not to hurt me. Now, it’s your turn.” “I can only keep on guessing. Suppose Scotland Yard was aware of that bogus telegram before it even reached you. and its origin was suspicious, they would detail a couple of motor-cyclists to watch events. Those men would either 1" ow you by sight, or ascertain your name from the door-man at the hotel, since he would certainly have noticed the strange treatment you received. They would follow- the car, and, when you were carried out of it, one would remain on guard while the other telephoned head-quarters. It was exactly 6-45 when Mr Winter gave me the news. Jameson had come to my place for a camp dinner. Wo had been talking orange-farm-ing all the afternoon, and would probably have kept it up till midnight.” “But you had telegraphed these people we are going to?” “Yes. I meant leaving London to-mor-row, and not returning until I sailed for South Africa in September. You see, I had read the announcement of you forthcoming marriage in the day’s papers.”

Pelham was so deadly in earnest that he was blind to the embarrassing nature of these logical deductions from events to which they bore no visible relation, so Phyllis contrived not to blush, and strove most valiantly to keep her comments within the same vein of sincerity.

“Of course, I shall never get married now,” she said, with a bland seriousness that would have delighted Furneaux, were he present. “I heard too much while a prisoner. One of the men, ‘Vaquero,’ if lie is the tall one, returned while I was fully conscious. He had been telephoning Cedar Lodge, and, I suppose, told Sir Arthur that I was held as a hostage. At any rate, Sir Arthur had agreed to meet ‘Vaquero’ to-morrow at Victoria Station. They were so. sure of their power that they laughed at the notion of his communicating with the police. Unfortunately, I know very little German, but I could follow their talk closely enough to gather that. Moreover the short man —he who followed us from the restaurant that day—was no better a German than I, and he often spoke English.” “What about the woman?” “Oh, she is German-Italian—probably from one of the Austrian Alpine provinces. She was very nervous, and began praying when you broke in the door of the sittingroom.” “Praying?” “Well, it is hard to tell the difference between prayers and curses with some of these people. But —what I want to say was—that when I was sitting there-—with a gag in my mouth —1 realised—that I could never marry Sir Arthur Pelham. I felt—that I was being used—to hide something—Oh, I can’t explain any more. I was just wretched and miserable. All I knew was that J would rather die than become that man’s wife.” In all likeklihood, Phylis’s nerves were strung more tensely than she imagined. The excitement and uncertainty of her captivity had brought to her aid a fine courage which yielded now that the strain was ended. Be that as it may, her eyes filled with tears, and she threw out her hands with a pathetic little gesture that

pierced Pelham’s heart. lie, too, was swamped by an emotional wave, which rose so swiftly from the soles of his feet to the roots of his hair that he behaved rather hysterically, because he caught Phyllis's hands, and, before either he or the girl regained their senses, they were m each other’s arms, and every tear-drop was removed by a kiss, and they were saying foolish things which they would dislike intensely to see reproduced in cold print. Nevertheless,- it was a quite demure and self-possessed Phyllis whom Mr.s Wood welcomed wondering]v on the platform at Lyndhurst Road about 9-30 p.m. My dear,” gasped that lady, when introductions were hurriedly- affected, “what a romance! r l he detective-man who startled us nearly out of our wits at eight o’clock put things so nicely that Henry and I wouldn t hear of his sending for the local police. Henry said that Arthur would make no mistake in the girl he sought for a wife, and J felt it would be ridiculous have such a charming lovestory verined by a tig policeman. Besides, this Mr Furneaux insisted on complete secrecy for a day or two, and —” Then Mr Wood broke in. “I don t know why, mother,” he said, with a choked utterance of one trying hard not to laugh, “but you are making these young people blush furiously. Now, suppose we all pile into the car, and let them have something to eat, and, if not too tired to talk afterwards, they can tell us the whole thrilling yarn.” And that is what they did. Seated in a comfortable drawing-room, and looking out at the dusky shadows stealing over the incomparable woodland of the New Forest. Phyllis and Arthur recited the strange events of the past fortnight to two thoroughly interested auditors. Lul Mrs Wood, with a woman’s keen eye for certain gaps in the narrative, was not to be repressed. “It’s like an exciting movie,” she vowed, “only some of the explanatory bits are missing. Are you two really on.-atied?” “No,” said Phyllis. “Yes,” said Pelha m. “You seem to take everything for granted Arthur,” said the girl. I ve taken you, at any rate,’’ he retorted. ' on never said a word about an engagement.” It wasn t necessary. I had already asked you to marry me.” “But that was absurd, then.” “Very w ell —’ ’ Now- don t be silly, or I’ll run away again !” Mrs Wood, who loved a sentimental novel or a play which made her weep, insisted on details. “It seems to be quite certain that you were not engaged when you left London, so how did Mr Furneaux know you would be when you reached Lyndhurst?” she said, with knitted brows. “Mr Furneaux is a very remarkable man,” vowed Phyllis. And they left it at that. ***** Jameson was invited to dine late at Pucci’s. There he met two weary men. for the “Yard” had much to occupy it in addition to the mystery centering in Cedar Lodge, which, in itself, had demanded far more time and close attention than can possibly be done justice to in this bare record of events. But the party cheered considerably when Pucci himself announced that, despite a busy dav in the restaurant, sole Margery and perils poussins had been reserved specially for their meal. “Well, here’s to you, Captain Stumbling Block!” cackled Furneaux, lifting a cool cocktail, and, swallowing it with the unhesitating gusto of a man who really needed a pick-me-up. “1 hat’s a new name for me,” said the surprised Sapper. “Had it been blockhead, now —” “Furneaux prides himself on using the right word invariably,” put in Waiter. “His was a delicate allusion to the Memorandum you sent us with reference to your schoolboy association with Sir Arthnr Pelham.” “I told you just what happened, and my immediate impressions.” Of course. That was the devil of it ! After much thought—” “And luminous suggestions,” interrupted Furneaux. “Exactly ... I didn’t add that because I knew you would. . . . Well after serious thought on my part, and some fanciful theorizing by my light-weight colleague, we arrived at certain conclusions, only to have them almost upset by your definite recollections of Eton as shared by Sir Arthur. If you were right, we were wrong. If the present baronet is really and truly your class-mate of fifteen years ago, we were following a false trail. * We may be still doing so, for all I know to the contrary, but it is nothing new for us to take chances, and the betting on the Cedar Lodge case is about even money that I retire precipitately on a pension, while Mr Furneaux not only receives a severe reprimand, but forgoes his very reasonable prospects of stepping into my shoes.” Jameson expected Furneaux to contrib ute a caustic remark on his Chief’s simile, but the little man remained silent for once. The soldier probably did not realise that these two men were united by bonds of steel. At some future date, theirs may figure as one of the world’s historic friendships. Officially they were the Siamese twins of the “Yard.” When they left the service they would go together, "or, if an exasperated Commissioner persuaded Furneaux to remain in office, Winter would assuredly take a busman’s holiday.

“May I remark,” said Jameson deliberately, “that Sir Arthur did most of the reminiscing? He recalled men and events which I had forgotten. Naturally, as Ills cousin and I are such, pals, I have had this thing a good deal on my mind during the past ten days. If I had to re-write that memorandum it would be phrased differently now.”

“Ah! In what way?” “Well, first of all, I would point out that a man who wished to make certain of his facts would look up all sorts of available data, and stock his memory with them. Let's take a hypothetical case. Suppose a fellow whose identity was not questioned at all wished to palm himself off as an Etonian of 1906 cr 1907—where’s the insuperable difficulty? The ‘Eton Chronicle’ is on file. The school records are there. By merely mixing with men of his own or approximate years lie would pick up some of the slang and house stories. No, if you want an infallible line to Sir Arthur Pelham’s personality, you ought to get hold of someone who served with him in the Guards during the first two years of the war. Scores of things happened then, either in the field or in the rest camps, which no man who had not shared the other fellow’s experiences could possibly ascertain afterwards. ’’ The detectives smiled. A waiter came in to lay the table, so the discussion could not be carried on. But the point cropped up again later. “The trouble is that every other officer of Sir Arthur’s battalion was killed either at or after Loo a,” said Winter. “Excuse me, but such a thing could not happen, protested Jameson. let it undoubtedly did happen.” “Don’t misunderstand me. 1 maintain that it is a sheer impossibility for the twenty-six officers who crossed the Channel with French on the nights of the x2th and 13th of August, 1914, to be serving in the battalion at Loos in 1916. Some men were wounded, some were transferred, some must have been found more suitable for training troops at home or elsewhere. I’ll make a bet with froth of you that not six out of the twentysix were at Mens and Loos with the same crowd.” “You seem to have um-dergone a remarkable deve.opment in ten days,” snapped -l urneaux Then Jameson saw that his hosts were, so to speak, trying him out, and had long ago reached the conclusions he was now putting forth so solemnly. “ciorry !” he laughed, “but I was really trying to make clear some of the doubts which have shot holes in that memorandum. ” “b’ou appreciate our dilemma, However,” said Winter. “When our Department takes up an inquiry it tries to preserve an open mind. No one is deemed either guilty or innocent until many little rills of evidence, flowing from different directions, begin to swell into a river of proof.” Furneaux shaded his eyes with a hand as though to ward off "a brilliant light which shone round his Chief’s head, but Winter ignored him, and served a dish of solo with absolute impartiality. 'it’s a surprising thing,” he "went on, placidly, “but a little hop o’ me thumb like Furneaux often eats as much as a big chap liko me. He pretends that fish >s brain food, but wait till you see him tackle tlio poussin.’’ “dry, however, not to hear our worthy Superintendent,” added Furneaux. “That’s a base libel—one quite unworthy- of your boasted wit!” cried Winter, indignantly. “Very well: In the circumstances I advise Captain Jameson to attend to his own bird.” “I wish you would tell me just what occurred to-day,” said Jameson “I suppose those blighters in Berners street ran off with the lady so as to bring pressure to bear on the baronet. But how did they manage it? I may want to pull off a stunt like that on my own account one of these days, and the wrinkle may be useful.” Pelham’s guesswork when asked the same question hy Phyllis was so literally accurate that the details need not be given twice. What he did not know was the special variety of ground bait used by the detectives. Finding that “Matador,” greatly daring, sought the acquaintance of Peters, the gardener at Cedar Lodge, and Phyllis's staunch adherent, they primed him (Peters) with all the information they wished the enemy to have. Thus, though Jameson was too astute to hint at it, they undoubtedly connived at the kidnapping episode, though they knew already where “Vaquero” and “Matador” lived. Indeed, they asertained this valuable fact the day after Lady Pelham was killed. The murder undoubtedly scared the ruffians who were not responsible for it. No matter what their quarrel with the son, thev would never have taken his mother’s life. So it was essential that their confidence should be restored, and that was the task entrusted to Peters, who neither knew what he was doing nor why he did it, save for the all-sufficing reason that he was serving Miss Phyllis’s interests. Jameson fitted each item into its place, but there were many squares on the chessboard still empty. “Stop me if I am putting questions which you do not care to answer,” he said, when Winter had supplied some of the missing pawns. “I see now what happened, but I’m dashed if I understand whv Pelham was encouraged to fly off with the lady to the New Forest.” “Keep in touch with us, and you will see light before many days have passed, said Winter. “You may be able to help us greatlv at any hour. Messrs ‘Vaquero and ‘ Matador,’ together with the woman, will he brought before a magistrate in the morning under their assumed names, which nwv not be spelled quite correctly on the charge-sheet, and remanded for a week for the heinous crime of conspiring to commit a felony. Judging from the funk thev are in to-night, they realis • that we can imprison them for the remainder of their lives on charges connected with the war, or have them chot at Vincennes if we care to extradite them to France, so they will obey us without a murmur. “Vaquera’ has done so already. He had arranged a meeting with Sir Arthur Pelham by ’phone for to-morrow morning in Victoria- Station, which is an amusing rendezvous, by the way, as wo might ask railway-porter

Jenkins to attend, but the date is a trifle too soon for our purposes. therefore, at my request, he has telephoned Cedar .Lodge and postponed the fixture, pretending that he did not trust Herr ‘69, and would give a night's thought to matters. Sir Arthur, ot course, was enraged, and may be even more so to morrow. If we can stage a first-rate row between them we may learn something really useful. ” “Sir Arthur knows, of course, that they brought about Miss Daunt s disappear ance?” “Why, certainly. Didn’t I make that clear ? The first thing ‘Vaquero’ did when lub prize was safe in Berners street was to hurry to a call office. The appointment at Victoria was the outcome. But the alarm had been given already, the doorman at the hotel was quick-witted; and reported Miss Daunt’s curious reception by the occupants of the car, whereupon Mrs lan forth, the young lady s aunt, rang up Miss Gwen Townsend, who, of course, denied sending any telegram or the ownership of a car. She, the aunt, then called Cedar Lodge —and what do you think this singular baronet advised?’ “I dunno.” "That she was to keep qniet, and say nothing to the police. He was certain Miss Phyllis would come to no harm, and he would arrange for her speedy return. Altogether, he received some remarkable ’phone messages since five-fifteen to-day. In fact, Mrs Lin forth and ‘V aquero’ were after him at the same time, but the lady secured the first innings. That is important. He knew what to say before he heard from the men who had carried off his fiancee as a hostage for his good behaviour.” “Do these rotters want money?” "Yes, yet they are not common blackmailers. " They sought revenge first, I think. Now they want to share the plunder." “Great Scott! Go you actually believe ” "I believe nothing. I'm a confirmed sceptic. If you want to hear some mad theorising, tackle Furneaux. I often teli him he could earn a princely income as a writer of scenarios for the films.” Signor Pucei’s bugh bulk filleu the doorwav. “Mr Winter wanted on the ’phone,” he said. He always brought such demands in person, being well aware of their importance to his distinguished clients. “You will now b«r favoured with a closeup of a greatly perturbed Chief Superintendent,” 1 " cackled Furneaux cherfully. “Bet you a new hat, James, that our worthy baronet is about to impart the great tidings.” “You’ll get no new hat out of me,” cried Winter, almost crossly. He was back in the room in less than a minute. “Sir Arthur has thought better of his concealment plan,” he said. “I told Sheldon to advise him that you and I, Furneaux, will be with him at ton. That gives us time for a cigar and some coffee. Ob, my, what a life ! By the way, Captain, did you and your friend Pelham, not the wicked baronet, but the interloper who has gone off with his girl, arrange for any calls in the morning?” “I asked him to ring up at the ‘Rag’ about luncheon time.” “He won’t, but I may. The exchanges get rattled when there are so many ‘Pelham’ calls flying about.” ‘‘Your Arthur Pelham is a decent boy, isn’t he?” inquired Furneaux unexpectedly. “One of the best,” replied Jameson. “As the Yanks say, he’s all wool and a yard wide.” “I summed him up that way myself, hut I like to hear what others have to say- as well. You see, he is, marked out to marry Miss, Phyllis Daunt at a very early date, and I want that girl to find a good husband. She rings true all the time. If I were young enough, and thought I had half a chance, I would never have flung Master Arthur at her head. As it is, unless he is a bigger fool than I take him for, they were engaged before their train reached Famborough !” Jameson checked up that prophecy later, and Furneaux was right, as usual. (To be Continued.)