THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 3610, 22 May 1923, Page 52

THE NOVELIST.

[Published bt Special Arraxgemb.vt.}

THE SECOND BARONET.

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, Clocle. 156 Fifth avenue, New Itork, U.S.A. CHAPTER XI.—SETTING A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF. Sir Arthur Pelham seemed to be the least perturbed man in London when he received the detectives that night in the library of Cedar Lodge. “I sent for you because of to-day’s peculiar developments in the quarrel between ‘Vaquero,’ ‘Matador,’ and myself,” he explained coolly, when Winter and Furneaux were seated, and the door had closed on the butler. He pushed a box of cigars and another of cigarettes across the table. “Do you smoke?” he went on. “Not at this hour,” said Winter. Furneaux merely shook his head with a murmured “No, thanks.” It was obvious that the baronet treated Winter as the one person present who demanded consideration. Furneaux he regarded as a mere subordinate, figuring somewhat in the capacity of a confidential ■messenger. Winter, of course, enjoyed this invidious distinction immensely. So did Furneaux, in his own way. Sir Arthur was hardly to blame in the matter, as Furneaux had a >ided him studiously since their first interview, and even then had been markedly taciturn, leaving nearly all the conversation to the Chief! “Well,” said the head of the Pelham family, on ascertaining that this queerlyassorted pair would neither smoke nor drink, “a most annoying thing has happened. Miss Daunt, the lady who is about to become my wife, has allowed herself to be carried off by those two blackguards, and is now held for ransom somewhere in London, I suppose.” “Good gracious!” cried Winter. “When did this happen?’’ “A few hours ago.” “Have you any definite facts?” “Yes—and no! Airs Linforth, Miss Daunt’s aunt, is vague and hysterical, but I gather that Miss Daunt kept an appointment made by a friend by telegram, and was hustled into a waiting car.” “Where ?” “Tn front of Hyde Park Hotel.” “At what time?” “About five o’clock.” “And when did you know of it?” “A few minuten later.” “Five hours ago, Sir Arthur! And you did not communicate with Scotland Yard till 9-15!” “True. I do not imagine Miss Daunt is in any real danger. 1 took tirr.o to consider the matter in all its bearings.” “But Mrs Linforth? Why didn’t we hear from her?” “I as lad her to leave the affair in my hands. I am the vitally interested party, seeing that it is my promised wife who is the sufferer.” “The marriage is actually arranged 1 take it?” “Yes, but—“l was only wondering why it should have been announced in this morning’s papers but denied in the evening issues.” “Not exactly denied. The paragraph was absolutely unauthorised—that is all. Still, the fact has no great bearing on Alias Daunt’s disappearance.” “Surely it has. Was she not kidnapped because she is about to marry you?” “Yes, in a sense. What I mean is that she, or any other person, would have been used in this way so as to annoy and irritate me,. This quarrel has now degenerated into the levying of blackmail.” ‘ISow do you know for certain that “Vaquero” and “Matador” are the culprits?” “They have telephoned me, and boast of their success. At first, I was inclined to bargain, and actually consented to attend a rendezvous to-morrow. But another message postponed this appointment without any valid reason, so, unwillingly, I admit, I decided to inform the police. ’’ “I’m afraid that has been your attitude throughout, Sir Arthur.” “Throughout what?” “The whole of this disreputable and tragic business. You begin by firing at an assumed burglar, though, in all probability, it was one of these mysterious associates of yours trying to force an interview. Then when Lady Pelham was murdered, you did not help us at all, though it is difficult t-o believe that with your wide experiance in M. 1.6 you failed to identify Raymond Carre as Steignitz.” “Are you here as an accuser, Air—Air Winter?” “Solely as the representative of the Criminal Investigation Department.” “But your tone is distinctly hostile.” “Is it? I a.m merely stating, hard facts, no matter how unpleasant they may sound.” “They could not well sound worse. You have just charged me with withholding serious evidence as to my mother’s murderer.” “True. In the presence of Mr Furneaux and myself you failed to recognise the photograph of a man who was extraordinarily well known during the war to all the principal officers in Militarv intelligence.” Any stranger listening to this rapid-fire question and answer between the two men might readily have imagined that they were on the verge of a quarrel which must

lead to the gravest consequences. Yet each was calm and self-possessed. They paused for a few seconds, just as skilled dueiliste draw apart after the first tentative bout Jn which each tries to measure his adversary’s dexterity with the rapier. The baronet poured out a small quantity of whisky, diluted it freely, and cut the end off a cigar which Winter noted with a pang as one of a rare and excellent brand. Furneaux saw it, too, arid promptly exercised the impish protensity which mastered him at times. “Pardon my interruption,” he said, “but may I ask what brand of cigar that is?” Sir Arthur was surprised, but, perhaps, a trifle grateful for this break in the conversation. He gave the name of the maker and the distinctive marks. “I thought so,” chirped Furneaux. “Though a non-smoker myself I have a friend who is a connoisseur of Havanas. I believe that particular leaf is grown on a small .estate in Cuba, and there are never more than ten thousand cigars of that brand placed on the market in a year.” “Quite correct. I am lucky enough to have a ten year's contract for half the annual supply.” “Vet it is sad to think that any single one of them would poison Air Furneaux,” said Winter bitterly. “As the hour is growing late, however, we must make some progress if Miss Daunt is to bo restored to her friends speedily. The point now at issue, Sir Arthur, is this—are you prepared to give us the full and true history of the relations between you and the men who are holding Aliss Daunt as a hostage —shall I put it?” “You can put it as you like. I’ll tell you everything bearing on any likely branch of your inquiry.” “Meaning that you will suppress a good deal of what has gone before?” “Yes. If you wish to probe into the workings of Intelligence I must warn you that my lips are sealed.” “In that case we may not discover Aliss Daunt’s whereabouts for some time.” “Perhape never,” broke in Furneaux. Sir Arthur waved the little man aside with a languid impatience more offensive than a display of anger. “Utter nonsense!” he said coldly. “For some hidden reason you seem to treat me as a hostile witness. When I say that I cannot go into the secret history of the war that mere statement does not prevent you from applying, to the heads of the various departments concerned. If they choose to place their records at your disposal, or authorize me in writing to go into these matters, my pledged word is thereby set aside. They can do this. I cannot. Really Air Winter, you of all men, ought to appreciate my difficult position.” “Oh, I do,” came the Chief’s suave assurance. “But I must know exactly where my own department stands. We are not permitted to compromise a felony, and abduction, or kidnapping, domes under that category, I think. I have not had a case for so many year's that I really forget whether the crime is a felony or a misdemeanour. However, I see your point. Waiving it for the moment there are certain aspects of the affair which I am sure you will clear up. Do you know ‘Vaquero’ and ‘Matador’ personally?” “No.” “So you cannot describe them?” “No.” “They seem to be well acquainted with you, however.” “How do you make that out?” “They know your name, your residence, your associates, and a good deal of your affairs. They were able to telegraph to Miss Daunt in the name of a friend—by the way, who was it?” “Some girl. I have never met her.” “Know her name?” “Let me see. Airs Linforth mentioned it. Gwen Something. But Mrs Linforth will tell you.” “Again, the one whom we believe to be ‘Vaquero’ attacked your cousin, Captain Pelham, in mistake for you.” “Which shows how they have blundered, because we are not very much alike.” “But an English soldier made, the same mistake.” “That has puzzled me, but I am told he saw the name on a portmanteau, and imagination did the rest. Why do you credit ‘Vaquero’ with the affair at the gate. Why not ‘Alatador’?” “M iss Daunt’s recollection of his voice and accent agrees with Captain Pelham’s.” “Ah, yes. Queer mix-up, isn’t it?” “You have spoken of ‘ransom’ and ‘blackmail.’ Which is it?” “Don’t you understand? Those rascals are convinced that I am their old fellowspy and paymaster, ‘69. ’ If I were, and had continued to masquerade as a British baronet, of fair means, I would be a juicy bone to pick, wouldn’t I?” “That would be blackmail, of a sort.” “Well, I suppose I thought of ransom in connection with brigands. Rather Cicilian this grabbing a young lady in broad daylight, and holding her in terrorem over my head.” “When these fellows telephone or write you to-morrow, will you communicate with us, so that we may arrange to capture them?” “There is nothing else for it, now. I must fight the brutes openly. Confound them ! I would have paid them well to clear off and leave me and mine in peace.” “I don’t see what you have to dread in a public prosecution.” “Dread ! I don’t dread them. I despise them. But lam anxious to avoid all the sensation attached to an expose of my later work in the war. Think what a screed the newspapers will make of it—all the paraphernalia of the spy novel, with an English officer adopting German methods.” “We had men in Germany during the whole of the war, Sir Arthur.’’ “Yes, of course. Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.” “Had Karl von Helding been much in England?”

“I’m not certain. I acted in that belief, and made no mistake that 1’ m aware of. He must have been almost perfect in English, or he would never have planned to pose as a British officer. ” Winter nibbled his moustache with an air of chagrin. “I wish I could guess how to start an investigation,” he said. “With neither names nor addresses, nor any complete description of these two men, it is, indeed, a game of blind man’s buff to try and find them. “Not even that,” said Furneaux, “because, adopting your metaphor, the blind man is a criminal, and he, at least, is in the room. ’ ’ The baronet did not favour Furneaux with so much as a glance. “Well,” said Winter, “there is nothing for it but to wait their next call, whether it be to-morrow or a week hence, and act then. ” “They will certainly get in touch with me to-morrow,” said Sir Artuur. “They may not. You reminded me the other day that the Germans are strong in psychology. Luckily we Britons are not, or the Hun would have beaten us.” “I don’t quite follow.” “Hun psychology is effective only with Hun. It fails altogether with the rest of the world, except the Turks, perhaps.” The other did not pursue the matter, and Winter stroked his chin reflectively with his right hand—a signal to Furenaux that he might give tongue, if he chose. " And he did choose. “A r ou were at Eton, Sir Arthur?” he said at once. “Yes. How does that—” “Oh, I noticed the entry in ‘Who’s Who’ and a peculiar point cropped up the other day in a discussion on the Eton v. Harrow match. Why does Eton play twelve men?” This evoked a smile. Even Winter thought Furneaux was rambling in his mind. “Twelve men! Nothing of the soit,’’ laughed the baronet. “Have you never heard of a cricket Eleven?” “Y r es, but I’m not an expert in games. I really had tire impression that those junior teams often numbered twelve. In fact, crossing the playing-fields one day at Eton I picked up a scoring-card, and thought I saw twelve names.” ‘You must have had the sun in your eyes.” “Possibly. I’m no eagle. . . Well, chief, I’m afraid I cannot help you by apy eflort of mine. Sir Arthur’s telephone call is our only hope. It will be a dreadful thivg, though, if any harm comes to that attractive young lady.” “You may disregard that aspect of the affair altogether,” said Sir Arthur, somewhat testily. “But, why? Suppose these desperadoes take her out of London, and hold her as a pledge for the safety of the emissary deputed to meet you? Neither ‘Vaquero’ nor ‘Alatador’ may appear.” “They will. I’ll dispose of them promptly—bo sure of that. I may be able to persuade the Home Office to deport them quietly. Even now I doubt whether I have taken the right course, hut once I have appealed to Scotland Yard there is no d-awing back, I take it.” “Oh, yes. It may be shown that Aliss Daunt went of her own free will.” “Re-ally Air—” “Furneaux.” “Your theories both as to cricket and young ladies about to be married require revision. ” “I’ve known stranger things to happen.” Winter rose. Sir Arthur renewed his promise to let him hear without a moment's delay if an appointment were made by either “Vaquero” or “Matador,” and the detectives went to their waiting taxi. Once clear of the gate, Winter bit nearly half an inch off a cigar. “Why on earth you should butt in with that tosh about cricket!” he began. “Beware, James!” cooed Furneaux, almost in a whisper. “Fools step in, or butt in, where angels fear to tread. Sir Arthur Pelham may have been a fool for a few seconds, but you certainly are not, nor ever will be, an angel.” Long experience rendered the Chief wary when Furneaux’s utterance was silkiest. “All right,” he growled, striking a match, “get it off your chest.” Furneaux squirmed around to take a good look at him. “It’s odd,” he cackled, “but I’ve never before noticed how handsome you are in a Rembrandt effect.” “Oil, for goodness’s sake—✓ “The sad and solemn fact is, James, that during the past half-century Eton has always batted 12 men in their home matches, though they field 11. Every Eton boy knows that. Sir Arthur Pelham didn't know it. Therefore Sir Arthur Pelham has never been to Eton as a member of the school.” Winter grew unite excited. He grasped his colleague’s shoulder in a grip of iron. “Are you sure of that?” he almost shouted. “James, you pain me, both physically and metaphorically.” “By Jove, that’s great!” chortled the Chief. "I was beginning to weaken, I admit it. He means to fight, and he has a terrific case. Now, I can go ahead again Charles, I had practically decided to throw up the sponge. Honest Injun, I thought you and T had gone in beyond our deqth this time.’ “Weren’t you nearly telling him that we had his friends safe in jail?” “Of course, I was. But something buzzed inside my head—” “Moths!” “Probably. I blamed you. I said to myself: ‘That little devil is watching me, and he’ll raise Caine if I spoil his pet romance.’ Anyhow, I didn’t do it. _Jiut how in the world did you think of that cricket catch.” “James, your incoherent with joy. One cannot think of a catch at cricket. It’s an agile and rather dangerous bodily effort. However, that is a disgression. I got hold of a barrister the other day who

was at Eton, and asked him to evolve a few posers for a pretender. He began with the Wall game, vhicii uses all sorts of outlandish words, but anyone can read them up. ‘The river, too, lias a language and a literature of his own. But that little College peculiarity in cricket is just one of those simple things which do not leap to the eye. Of course, if Eton hung a bell on the middle stump, or Eton made the umpire stand behind the wicket-keep-er, or did something equally bizarre and humorous, we should hear of it every time the bell rang or the umpire stopped a fast one. But twelve a side ! what of it? What is one more duck among so many? If 13 are a baker’s dozen, why shouldn’t 12 form an Etonian eleven? Furneaux's tongue was certainly loose now, sure sign that not only had the scent been good in the chase, but that the quarry was actually in view. Jameson, the very man for the purpose, was deputed next morning to hunt up two or three officers who had served in Sir Arhtur’s battalion during the initial stages of the war. He was also asked to trace his own house-master and dame at Eton. Winter had a protracted session with the Commissioner and the official head of the Criminal Investigation Department. At its close the latter made appointments for the afternoon with the under-socretaries in both the Home and Foreign Offices. The Chief looked very pleased with himself when he entered his private office, where Furneaux awaited him. “Ga marche!” he cried, reaching for a box of cigars. “Is that French?” inquired Furneaux. “No, Irish. It means ‘Go aisy !’ Anything doing?” “I’ve spoken Lyndhurst, Pelham on the ’phone, with the fair Phyllis listening ;n. I heard her say, ‘Arthur, don’t be silly—there’s a maid in the hall,’ so they don’t care if it snows down there. Jameson is busy. I’-m learning to like these young officers. I only hope the Government is not getting rid of the bright youths and keeping the duffers.” “Never mind the. Government, we have enough on our shoulders without taking on the whole of Whitehall. Shall we have ‘Vaquero’ UJJ?” “Let’s.” In due course a lanky, olive-skinned man, still wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, was brought in. His escort, at a nod from the Superintendent, waited in the outer room. “Well,” said the Chief cheerily, pointing to a chair, “how are you feeling this morning ?” The prisoner looked surprised. Probably his knowledge of Prussian officialdom led him to expect a far less friendly greeting. He sat down, and shook his head despondently. “All iss black,” he said. “My coundry iss tefeaded, yess, und I haf lesd efferyding. Whad iss dere lefd?” “Well, if that is so, you can make a fresh start. Suppose you' begin by telling us your real name.” “Aly pazpord—” “We have your passport, but it’s a fake —what you call Ersatz. Now, I don’t wan’t to frighten you, but I must tell you exactly what will happen if you attempt any further deception. We won’t bother about you here. You will be sent to Paris.” The man’s skin assumed a greenish tint, and his e3 r es glistened like those of a trapped animal. “Eef I dell der drade,” he gasped, ‘ vveel you sed me vree?” “I make no promises, but you understand English ways well enough to know that we are generous.” “I am Julius Slavinski, bom in Posen, und I vass schoolmaster in Hanover undil 1910. Den I join der Cherman Segrei Service, as I taug french und Idaliau bedder dan Eenglish.” When he mentioned Posen, Winter glanced at Furneaux. In one of many filing cabinets against the wall reposed the Alortlake police-inspector’s report of Captain Pelham’s statement: —“I should imagine he hails from German Poland, round about Kalish or Posen. ’ “Very well,” said Winter. “You were trained by the agents of the Ilauptquartierstab in Berlin, I suppose?” “Yess.” “And you were sent to Paris, where you were instructed to mix with the Socialist element. Afterwards you were transferred to Rome, and in 1913 you came to England.” Slavinski was frantically astonished. “You know!” he cried. “Of course T know. What am I here for? Where did you live in this country?” “I begame barbaire, und vvass send to Altershod.” “Aldershot?” “Yess. Blendy of officiers dere.” “But British officers don’t discuss military affairs with a man who cuts their hair.” “Nod at first Dey want to here aboud Chermany, und I dell dem. Den dey dalle aboud Eenglant.” “I see. You swopped notes. You understand that?” “Oh. yess. I know mosd of the worts.” “You certainly do. Carry on.” “In Ala.y, 1914, I went to America. In Ocdobor I redumed vvid an American pazpord.” “Excellent! So you were then an American citizen.” “Dad’s zo. Id wass ad dat dime I came under the orters of Karl von Helding, who iss now Sir Ardor Pelham.” “That’s too big a stride. Did you worn a wireless station at Hull?” “No. I haf no technique.” “Who did work it?” “I don’d know. Von Helding wrode somedimes from Hull. Aly speciality iss landwages.” Winter laughed. “You have a terrific German accent, cannot guess how we missed you.” “I spogue Idalian mosdly. I was a New York Idalian—whad dey call dere a 'Wop'.”

“What excuse had you for being here at all? You must have mixed with people.’’ “I l'eprezend Italia Irredenta. I am all for de Allies. I say efferywhere dat Idaly musd come indo der War mit her frent, Kengland.” “>So that was the scheme. Pretty good, too! Your reports to ‘69’ were ma.in’y about transports and munitions, and were signed ‘Yaquero.’ But they didn't go to Hull. They were addressed to Amsterdam.” “Whad? You know!” cried Slavinski again. “I have copies of at least a hundrd, within a few feet of where you are sitting. You were remarkably accurate and painstaking, too.” “But, I don’d unterstant.” “Naturally. You Germans thought we were a set of fools. You were rather useful to us, really. But, let that pass. How can you be sure that Karl von Helding is now Sir Arthur Pelham?” “Don’d I know 7 heem? We were togedder in Berlin, New York, und Paris. “Yes, that is all right so far as von Helding is concerned. But there are scores of well-known English people who will testify that they have been acquainted with Sir Arthur Pelham since childhood. He was educated in a leading school, passed through our military college, and held a commission in the Guards. How can he possibly be Karl von Helding?” “He iss elevaire, bud he could nod do dose tings. Id wass chanz, la fortune de la guerre. He is a beeg man, an arisdocrad, und haf Eenglish governess and dudors. He leef here und in America. He speague Eenglish ligue a nadive. Long before de war he begome high officier in de Segred Service. He moved freely aboud Eengland und France wid an American pazpoi'd. Den, when you close ub de open roads in 1916, we ail go to Spain. From Spain he go in L-hode to Trieste, und is ortered by de High Command to join de British Army at Loos. Dere he haf aecidend, und was hid by a shell. He is daken to de same field hospital as Sir Ardur Pelham, who died dat night. Karl von Helding begome Sir Ardur Pelham. Id iss easy.” “Nat so easy. In all probability he had never met Sir Arthur Pelham before in his life.” “You are misdaken. He med him ofden in—in” “Eaton Square?” “Yess. Dat’s the house. He wass friently wid Sir Ardur’s mudder. Winter whistled softly. “Do you mean to say that Lady Pelham actually agreed to recognise this man in place of her dead son?” “Whad is dat? Her son wass det. She hade de Eenglish for ge'dding him killed She wass Gherman. You are English. f you liffed in Chermanv wouldn’t you do de same for your coundry?” “Substitute an Englishman for my halfGerman son, you mean?” “Yess.” “J don't think so. If I were a German subject I would be faithful to my adopted land.” Slavinski threw out his hands in a gesture of non-comprehension. “I would always serf my Vaderlant," he cried. Winter hesitated a moment, and Furneaux broke in : “That’s fine. That’s patriotic! I like that!” The Chief coughed. He had nearly retorted angrily, whereas Furneaux threw a sop to the man’s vanity7' The telephone rang, and Winter picked up the receiver. He crooked a linger at Slavinski, and handed him another * receiver. “Listen, but not a word from you -± you value your life!” he whispered. Yes, Winter speaking, Sir Arthur,” he said aloud. “Have you any news?” “Not a sign from those scoundrels as yet. I am becoming anxious about Miss Daunt, so have secured departmental permission to say there is reason to believe that ‘Vaquero’s’ name is Julius Slavinski, and ‘Matador’s’ Ferdinando Pascqri. This information, which is probably correct, may assist you somewhat.” “It will, indeed. I am greatly obliged. Where did you learn this?” “Through certain channels known only to the Department.” “How fortunate that you were able to get in touch with them! As soon as possible after I lay hands on Slavinski and Pascari I’ll let you know.” “Rescue Miss Daunt, and send those blackguards across the Channel. They will be dealt with swiftly there.” “I ll do all that lies in my power. Good-bye, Sir Arthur.” Winter turned to a man who was livid with rage. “You recognised the voice, of course?’ he said quietly. “De voice of a draidor!” almost screamed the other. “Led Pascari und me be shod at Vincennes, und he is safe for ewer !” “No man is ever safe from justice while he lives,” said Winter. “Do you smoke? Take a cigar. It will soothe your nerves. .We must now have a heart-to-heart talk.” (To he Continued.)