THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 3611, 29 May 1923, Page 52

THE NOVELIST.

[I’CBJ.ISHBD BT SPHCIAL ARRANGEMENT. J

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 .be United States and Canada by Edward J. Clode. 156 Fifth avenue, New York, U.S.A. CHAPTER XII. WHEREIN THE CHIEF HAS AN ATTACK OF NERVES. Phyllis Daunt had opened her eyes that morning in a strange bedroom. For a lew seconds she was bewildered. She could not account for two low w indows shadowed by eaves holding swallows’ nests, a door in an unaccustomed place, and a suite of Chippendale furniture which she did not remember. Then came a full awakening to an unfamiliar environment, and, with it, that clarity of thought which is supposed to be a prerogative of the morning hours after a night of refreshing sleep. From live in the afternoon until midnight of the preceding day she had been using up nervous energy at a spendthrift rate. Ihe call on her splendidly vital resources had come, too, at a time when she had been compelled to endure a fortnight of that placid martyrdom which so often seems to be woman s special lot in life. For one thing, she was not in love with Sir Arthur Pelham ; for another, she was convinced that Sir Arthur Pelham was not in love with her, and a woman alone can decide which of these negative states is the worse. She was bitterly aware that a wellmeaning and managing aunt had done everything possible to bring about the match, yet a much stranger side of the enigma lay in her prospective husband’s real or assumed indifference. Every healthy-minded young woman gives need to the possibilities of the wedded state, and it would, indeed, be a grey old world if a girl’s heart did not cherish the hope that love will prove the chief factor in matrimony. But Phyllis, who was poor, and of independent spirit, could not help realising the manifest advantages of the marriage which had been arranged in such a cold-blooded way. Her baronet was young, good-looking, well-bred, even on his mother’s side, and wealthy. He avoided the fast set in society, which is a canker in the nation’s life. He was studious and reserved in manner. To all appearance, he was eminently fitted to fill the various ranks in the magistracy, the County Council, and the Quarter Sessions, which make up the official round of the country gentleman’s life. And he certainly might be described as an eligible bridegroom. Such a man could have picked his bride in the high places. Yet be had chosen Phyllis ! That was a compliment in itself, since Mrs Linforth’s patent fly-throwing would never have succeeded if the big fish were not more than ready to take the lure. She had disposed of these arguments while sitting bound and gagged in the Berners street house. Some element of chicane, some hidden and disturbing element, had thrust itself suddenly into the unruffled, if decidedly opanue depths of a queer courtship, and she knew that the very notion of marriage had straightway become an utterly affrighting nightmare. But—it was a tremendous swing of the pendulum that she should become engaged to another man as a means of escape. Phyllis blushed to her shoulder-blades at the recollection of Arthur Pelham’s lovemaking. There was no coldness to complain of in his methods, at any rate. Why, she had only seen him three times in her life ! There was something indelicate about such haste. What was it he said that dav in Kensington Gardens—that thev could learn to love each other just as well after marriage as before? Well, perhaps. but any self-respecting girl would simply insist there must not even be an engagement for some months, and, if be really went to South Africa in the autumn, each should be free to consider the matter with unbiassed mind before taking the irrevocable step which bound them for all their days. Having solved the problem and decided how to act, Phyllis got up and dressed. Within less than half an hour she was decending the stairs, feeling as cold and unemotional as the statue of Galatea before Pygmalion breathed the fire of passion into its marble veins. Mr and Mrs Wood, enthusiastic gardeners both, she had seen tending some plants at the farther side of a spacious lawn. Arthur Pelham was not with them. .She planned to join her host and hostess before meeting the impetuous young man who had kissed her so rapturously in the train. The dining room opened on to the lawn by two French windows, so she took that route, to find herself clasped in Pelham’s arms the moment she had passed the door. The artful dog had waylaid her. “You darling!” he murmured, kissing her lips and eyes. “To think that we should actually lie having breakfast together !” It was not a bhihlv poetic thought, but —alas for the clear, well-defined plans of the waking hour! they fled at the first touch of bis hands, at the mere sound of liis voice. "Yes. dear!” she sighed, ‘‘it is nice!” Another hug, a third mav be, and they went to find the Woods. Fumeaux was on the ’phone just as they all entered the breakfast room, and he had given Winter a failhful record of what happened then.

Nevertheless, Phyllis was genuinely wonied about her aunt, who, although only a relative by marriage, being her father’s sister-in-law, the widow of a doctor in the North of England, was the girl’s sole domestic stand by. Still, there was no gainsaying the fact that Mrs Linforth, if made aware of Phyllis’s whereabouts, might upet the “Yard’s” care-fully-laid plans, and it become more and more patent, with each passing clay, that the detectives had devoted themselves unsparingly to the task of unravelling the web of mystery which shrouded Cedar Lodge and its principal inmates. “Yon see,” urged Pelham, "Mr Furneaux did not stipulate for a long delay. This evening, or to-morrow at the latest, he means to strike, and we certainly should abide his time.” ‘‘Can it be really possible that he and Mr Winter believe Sir Arthur Pelham is dead, and that a notorious German spy has taken his place?” said the girl in an awed tone. “They are committed to that theory now, I should imagine,” sa.id Mr Wood. “If they are mistaken there will be such a hubbub that the Government may resign.” “Splendid!” cried his wife. "If that is a probable result I wouldn’t be in Sir Arthur’s shoes for all the money in the Mint.” “Propound, my dear," said her husband. “The Government have been doomed twenty times during the past three years until a division takes place in the House. Then they invariably remain in office by a terrific majority.” Whereupon Mrs Wood poured out the coffee with a fine consciousness of having sa.id something clever, and Air Wood entertained them with the strange story of the Tichborne case, when a crude mi postor nearly bamboozled all the best legal talent of England. So, after a very pleasant meal, the Wood family discovered that they had pressing occupation till lunch-time, and Phyllis and her Arthur sat in the garden, and discussed their own affairs with the delightful earnestness which enfolds as with a cloak those who are young and newly in love. It has been seen that Pelham owned : fair share of b' tins. He summed up the existing situation with the acumen of a King’s Counsel. “You see, sweetheart,” he said (good ness only knows where he learnt the correct terms of endearment!) where we are concerned, one of two tilings must happen. Either this astounding belief of the detectives is a literal fact—and it is I who should have succeeded to the Pelhaul baronetcy, if not the estate—or i have to use my small capital to make a fresh start in life. I may have to do so in any event, and a title without money is a poor asset—not- altogether worthless, however, as some people pretend who are minus the title. But—you have no vast income, I hope?” Phyllis laughed; he was so obviously fearful lest some unforeseen dragon should appear. "No,” she said. “I have a small pension, which ceases when I get married.” “Then, as lurneaux suggested most wisely, we shall grow oranges together. I have gone fully into that South African scheme, and the whole of the evidence shows that after five years of honest c-ffort the plantation should be a success. Would you mind roughing it for that length of time?” “I should love it.” But why try to tread once more the well-worn path of lovers searching for future happiness? All roads may or mav not lead to Rome, but the talk of all young people who have discovered, miraculously, of course, that they have been specially created the one for the other, leads only to marriage and utter bliss. And what cynic would have it. otherwise : If he (there cannot be a she) exists, ’et him be anathema, unheard and unread! Luckily, Winter and Fumeaux had completed their inquiry into Slavinski’s strange career during and after the war years, when a. messenger required the Chief’s presence in the Deputy Commissioner’s room. The great man looked up with a smile as Winter entered. “We’re in trouble,” he said. “What’s gone wrong now, sir?' “Whitehall has got the wind uj 'ather badly. An Under-cecretary, jiiding he had an hour to spare this morning, asked me to look in on him at once instead if waiting till this afternoon. He absolutely poo-poohed the Pelham-von Holding story. Said it reminded him of Dr Jekvil and Mr Hyde.” “An eminently foolish remark.” “One expects such platitudes from Under-Secretaries. How can anv man be human who says, ‘The answer is in the negative, therefore the second question does not arise’? Still, you know ” “I wonder,” said Winter thoughtfully, "if the Under-Secretary in question would consent to act as a member of a board of inquiry to which I hope to submit this matter to-morrow.” “Why to-morrow ” "Because the Aquitania reaches Southampton at six this evening. Tho Deputy Commissioner nibbled the handle of a pen. "You are very confident, Mr Winter,” he said, after a pause. “Never more so —speaking, that is, from our point of view, though I should be nervous before a judge and jury.” “Yet that is our ultimate tribunal. Of course, you have weighed that side of the affair long since.” “Wc—l cannot draw back now.” “Please don’t misunderstand me. This department backs you to the limit. 1 only wanted you to know there are powerful influences against you, or, if that is putting it too strongly, you will have to convince men whose uninformed opinion at present runs counter to the notion that you can put forward a cast iron case.’’

“All I ask is that they will not talk.' “Oh, there is no fear of that. Have you made any real progress?” "One of the prisoners, ’Vaquero,’ has told me everything he knows, and it is quite a lot.” “All right. I wanted to warn you of breakers ahead—that is all.” When Winter passed ou the news to Furneaux the little man was enraged. “Cre nom!" he shrilled. “Why doesn't the British Empire crack to pieces when it is ruled by such dolts?” "Because, if Carlyle’s dictum be true, that we as a nation are mostly fools, we get the government we deserve, and no better. There’s a Latin tag that suits the case exactly, but I forget it. My poor head is over burdened to-day.” “Similia similibus.” “That’s it. Sometimes you excite niv envy.” “Bet you a new straw hat you won't guess who the last person was to wham 1 quoted that.” “Your ci'aze for new hats is only equalled by your folly in imagining that T exist solely for the purpose of gratifying it. Have you anv idea liovv long we

can keep that girl at Lyndhurst?” Furneaux produced six half-crowns from a pocket, and spread them on the table. ‘‘Can you arrange those coins into a figure resembling a Alaltese cross so that one mav count four each way?” he said. The Chiefs eyes brightened. “Just for once,” he said, "I’ll take your bet.” Furneaux swept up the money with a sigh of relief. “It’s off,” he announced. “I was afraid yon might hold me to it. What imp of mischief put Phyllis Daunt into your mind?” “Oh, you have been wheedling her with your Latin, have you? Well, isn t she the magnet, the lodestar, or whatever :t may be which draws men to folly ! ,f cur worthy baronet is frantic with anxiety in her behalf ” “He isn’t. He meant to consolidate his own position by marrying her. She’s just the wife to suit him—thoroughly English, heartily anti-German, daughter of a naval officer lost in the war. Do you realise, James, that if Phyllis Daunt had gone to Cedar Lodge a month ago as Lady 3 Pelham, Herr Karl von Holding would have pulled off the greatest swindle of the past century?” “Those birds we have under lock a-nd key downstairs might have spoiled his game.” “Not they. He would have paid. Whao they really wanted was money.' “It was a happy thought of mine to let Slavinski hear ‘69’ give him away so completely.” . “Yes, you’re coming along nicely. It. s the hand-feeding that, does it. A few years ago you would have irad an apoplectic fit at the mere thought of acting so undepartmentally.” “Oh, your excessive vanity makes me tired. ’ Shall we lunch with Jameson? If we give him a call now he 11 invite us to his club.” “Anything would be preferable to seeing you preening yourself in my feathers. Winter seized a* cigar in one hand a,nd the telephone in the other. Quarter of an hour later the two detectives were seated with Jameson and Drummer at a table in the “Ra.g.” “Tum-tum,” of course, was not aware of the precise identity of the visitors, but he pricked his ears like an alert fox terrier on bearing Furneaux say he had spoken to Pelham earlv that morning. “Queer" thing!” he said. “You saw the announcement of the marriage arranged between Arthur’s cousin and a Phvllis Daunt in yesterday’s papers?" Yes, thev had all noticed it. “Well,” he went on, “a chap m the Guards was saying last night that, the honourable baronet never attends any regimental or divisional dinner. He must be a stand-off sort of johnnie. “Who is your Guardsman, Tum-tum? inquired Jameson. “A nice fellow, name of Lindsay. He was in Pelham's battalion."’ “Is he in the Club now?” inquired Furneaux. “Yes. That’s be talking to the hooknosed old nob near the fire-place. . t “Would vou mind asking him to join us for a few minutes when he’s at liberty?” “Certainly. 1 think I can get him for lunch. Do'vou mind?” “That 7 will be splendid.” While Drummer was strutting across the room, Fumeaux sought Jameson s opinion as to whether or not the stout major could keep a secret. “He’s close as wax,” was the verdict. “Just tip him the wink that you are doing Arthur a good turn—the other Arthur, vou know —-and you can trust him to the limit. By the way, our old housemaster and dame are both living in London. I have their addresses.” “Good. We must look them up to-dav. I am inclined to believe that the balloon will ascend to-morrow, about 10.30 a.m. “I have two other Guardsmen for you, too. Lindsay I didn’t know. Here fie comes.” After half an hour’s chat Colonel Lindsay—at that moment probably the most surprised man in the kingdom—promised to call at Scotland Yard next morning, and, in the meantime, to search his memory for such trivial items of personal experience as he and Sir Arthur Pelham had shared in common during the early years of tho war. “I want to make this matter quite clear and put it hevond tho reach of any possible error,” said Winter gravely. “We are not striving to prove that Sir Arthur is Karl von Holding. What we want to know is whether or not he is Sir Arthur Pelham. If he is—if a number of friends and acquaintances are so convinced of his identity that anv court of law must accept their evidence —we have no more to say ; we can only try and wriggle out of a most awkward predicament as best we may. If he is not —if men like you, Colonel, feel certain he is not the man who went with you to France in 1911—

then it becomes our business to prove who lie really is.” In such manner the two detectives passed some hours, since a good many witnesses hud to be seen and warned as to what was expected from them. Their difficulty was that the course they meant to adopt was one almost without precedent in modern England. They would invite Sir Arthur l’elham to attend i private inquiry in the office of the Police Commissioner, on the ground that he might deem it advisable to hear and consider certain statements made by two admitted German spies and agents provacatcurs whom lie himself had named, it was a delicate undertaking. The least deviation from the beaten track of judicial procedure would subject its authors to merciless cross-examination in court, and severe strictures by a judge, while such a flaw might invalidate an otherwise powerful case. There must be no attempt to treat him as a suspected person over whose head was hanging a serious charge. On the other hand, some such preliminary investigation was rendered at least plausible by the fact that he himself was a trusted officer of the least known and best informed section of the Secret Service. ‘ Ticklish work, Charles, muttered Winter, when a note from Detectivesergeant Sheldon told that, in compliance with instructions, he had met Miss Daunt, Captain Pelham, and Mr and Mrs Wood at Waterloo, where thev arrived at six o’clock, that he had escorted Miss Daunt to the Hyde Park Hotel, and that Mrs iunforth, after tearful protestations, had agreed to accompany her niece forthwith to the Woods’ house in the New Forest without revealing her whereabouts to any one. Also, he had secured letters (enclosed) from the two ladies; Captain Pelham had gone to his rooms, and would dine in the Club. “Nice work, you mean,” chirped Furneaux, to whom this weaving of plot and counter-plot was far more congenial than the mere pursuit of a sordid criminal. “We either score heavily or break our blooming necks,” said Winter, striking a match. In his pre-occupation be had actually allowed a perfectly good cigar to go out. “I have never before seen you so nervous,” said his colleague. For once Furneaux dropped his habitual banter. lie began to fear that the redoubtable Chief was losing grip. “Where’s the good of kidding ourselves: demandel Winter seriously. “Our entire case may crumble like a pack of cards. Suppose our witnesses are divided —some for and some against? We ve got to produce this infernal thing, too.’ He fingered somewhat disconsolately a Memorandum from the legal adviser to Die British Embassy at Berlin which set forth that he had ' inspected the records of the German F'ield Hospital, No. 106, which dealt with all severe cases sent in bv Casualty Clearing Stations during the battle of Loos. Thev showed that Major Karl von H riding, attached General Staff, had died from machine-gun wounds, and was buried in Cemetery No. 14. Gapta.in Sir Arthur Pelham, British, had beeu treated for shell wounds. Corporal Jenkins, British Royal Fusiliers, severely wounded, was in the same list. “Isn’t that exactly what you expected to find?” said Furneaux. 4 ‘Or course it is. Rut tTiat f&ct docsn t make things easier for us in court. “Now, listen to me, Janies, said Furneaux, propping his chin on his hands. -For the hundredth time I appeal to you to banish the judge and jury bogey from your mind until it ceases to be a nebulous entitv, an dthe judge is seated there in liis wig, and the jury’s collective face assumes the particularly fatuous expi os-si-on common to twelve average citizens trying to follow the intricacies of a ease which will probably perplex the Law Lords. If we handle this affair properly we can draw back at any stage in the " “But how explain the bolting of Aliss Phvllis Daunt?” “You leave that to her. She will con vince a jury a iollv sight more quickly than Sir Arthur Pelham, in all his g’ory, con rrot< it to see why lie concealed her abduction from the police. “Well let’s eat. a line. I 11 meet the Cunard special from Southampton at nine o’clock ; I want you to be at Cedar Lodge about ten.” .. “Rigbt-o! Chcerup. old top! \\ hen next I see you you'll be quoting Shakespeare— Now is the Winter of my discontent Made glorious summer by this son of New York! At ten o’clock Furneaux found Sir Arthur Pelham in the library at Barnes. The man looked tired. He seemed ‘o have aged two years in two days. “Well,” lie growled, not troubling to rise when the detective was announced, nor asking his visitor to be seated, ha\ e you anv real news this time?’ “Yes. Furneaux sal down and produced two letters. “We have arrested veur friends.” The baronet bounced up in a blaze of excitement. “Mv friends !” be shouted. “Do you mean Slavinski and Pascari? “Yes.” “Then why the devil don t you say so?” _ M “1 was speaking colloquially. “I would describe it as offensively. Where is Aliss Daunt?” “The lady herself will tell vou. A message from her aunt will add corroborative detail.” , Sir Arthur tore open toe first envelope, which was in Phyllis’s handwriting. He read : —- Dear Sir Arthur. —I have undergone such trying experiences during the past twenty-four hours that 1 am leaving town 'with my aunt, and going to -\ friend’s house for a few days of complete rest. Please don’t expect to see or bear from me for at least a week. Phyllis Daunt. Mrs Linforth wrote:1 am dreadfully worried, but Phyllis is in such a state of nerves that I

dare not refuse to a company her. Bhe reallv has had much to endure of late, and I think she ought to be humoured, i am sure everything will come right soon. The man read and re read these singularly uniuforming missives, bending his mind with almost savage effort to extract from them more than they revealed. At last he sprang toward Fun lean x as though he would assault him. “Have you seen these letters?'’ he demanded, and his light blue eyes held a reddish tinge of overwhelming anger. “No.” "Look at them now, and tell me what they mean.” Fimieaux perused carefully the text which he himself had given to Sheldon, and which both women had copied. “They seem explicit, so far as they go, he said. “C!<xl in heaven, man, they go nowhere ! “llut the ladies have gone somewhere. They can hardly have been kidnapped again.” ‘Why did Winter send you, you fool? J shall complain to the Commissioner. ’ “Poor, dear man! He draws half of his fat salary for reading complaints about me.” "Do you realise that you are playing with fire?” “I like the pastime. 1 have always envied those conjurers who could eat it.” “If you can tell me nothing, why are you here?” Funi&aux's eyebrows curved nearly to the roots of his black hair. “Tell you nothing!’ he cried. ‘When 1 have just told you that the whole wretched conspiracy is laid bare, and its prime movers in prison!” “What conspiracy'?” ‘‘This sillv yarn that Sir Arthur Pelham died after Loos, and that you are actually Karl von Holding!” “That was disposed of vears ago.” “Indeed, no. It is very much alive. Slavinski and Pascari swear it is true. I have come to ask you to face tlrese two Hun agents at ten o'clock to-morrow in the Commissioner’s office. Ae, in the ‘Yard,’ are fully convinced that you would prefer that method of puddling a stupid canard than having it investigated in open court. " Sir Arthur Pelham seated himself and calmed down. He eyed luirneaxs ingenuous features weighingly. “Is this a departmental inquiry?” he said. “Something of the kind. A preliminary investigation, I prefer to describe it. “Investigation of what?” “Of Slavinski’s and Pascari’s activities. You know, even lietter than I, that the authorities would not approve of any public probing into the records of M. 1.6. “J have been dinning that into yo-ur ears for weeks. Very well, Mr Furneaux. T 11 attend at ten o'clock. Meanwhile, will you still help me to find Miss Daunt?” “She’s a somewhat elusive young woman, but, having got her out of one Fcrape, we can surely extricate her from another. Good-bye. See you in the morning.” It may or may not have occurred to the baronet that* the little detective had treated him with scant ceremony. But, perhaps, he had more serious matters to consider than the offhandedness of a mere hireling of Scotland Yard. The butler stated afterwards that his master remained up late and drank heavily that night. (To he Concluded.)