The Bantyre Fortune

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 996, 12 June 1930, Page 5

The Bantyre Fortune

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CHAPTEK IV.—(Continued.) “Rest here!” he said in a tone of command. “I will return,” and walked quickly away. Mark watched him approach his superior, and saw an excited dialogue break out between them. He tried to concentrate his attention on their discussion, clenching his hands beneath the table and feeling his cheeks burn furiously. Most of the people who had been dining- were gone and those remaining whom he could see were not near enough to have heard what passed. But that, only gave a temporary respite. However, his exit from the room were effected it must be full of ignominy, and now the crisis was on him he felt that, if he could have the last two hours again, he would kill himself rather than risk the scene which was coming. The sound from behind him of a chair being pushed back reminded him of the party whose remarks had so angered him. They were so near they must have heard every word of the conversation with the waiter and it seemed an added humiliation thr.t he should have exposed himself to their vulgar observation. He held his breath, listening. If that brute with the unpleasant voice uttered one jeering word he should be made to regret it. But the only sounds were those of foo-tsteps as the big man passed Mark and went rapidly across the room. He unceremoniously interrupted the excited talk of the waiters who accepted his intervention with obvious respect and an appearance of relief. He had a slip of paper in his hand which he passed to Mark’s waiter and, producing a fat wallet, handed over some notes. The man took them and, bringing money from his pocket, began to count out change. Mark swore inwardly. “Why must that bounder butt in with his affairs instead of letting them finish me off at once?” he thought angrily. He had never felt such hatred for anyone as inspired him against the big man then. The object of his fury took his change and came hack by the way he had gone, Mark glowering fiercely past him. trying to make out if the waiters had reached a decision with regard to himself. But they seemed to have lost interest in him and were

standing side by side, watching the progress of the big man. He neared Mark% table and, instead of passing on to his friends, baited on the opposite side, drew out the unused chair and sat down. “Accept this from me,” he said, pushing the slip the waiter had signed across the cloth. Mark looked at it. It was his bill, receipted. “What does this mean?” he demanded. “I’ll tell you that, of course,” replied the big man, “but I’m sure you would rather have the explanation in a more private place than this. if you -will come to my flat with me and my friends. I think we can put up a proposition you will find to your advantage.” Mark frowned at him. The nearer view he was getting only increased his instinctive dislike, and the thought of being under an obligation to tire man disgusted him. “I couldn’t possibly let you pay my bill!” he said. "It’s too late to prevent that now. I have paid it and you couldn’t pry that money out of the waiter with a crowbar.” Mark knew he was right and gritted his teeth in impotent rage. “Of course, if his first idea was the true one and you were only joking, you can refund the money, and X will own up to having been had like him.” The man laid a thick, moist looking hand palm upwards on the table in token of his willingness to receive repayment. Mark sat silent, staring at the broad fingers, loathing them and himself. “No? You were not joking, then? Neither am I; and I am not performing an act of charity. I never lay out money without expecting a return for it.” “What return do you expect from me?” Mark asked. There seemed to be an oppression on his chest and his voice, which he found difficulty in forcing to its office, sounded hoarse and unfamiliar in his ears. “I said I would explain that in a more convenient place. There are things it’s not wise to talk about where curious ears might be open—and quite enough curiosity has been stirred up here already for one night! Will you come?” He stood up. “You won’t be committing yourself to anything, and I don’t suppose you are anxious to -stop here longer than you must!” Mark glanced round. The two

waiters at the door had been joined by a couple more and all four were watching him and whisperiug to gether. No! He certainly had no wish to remain where he was! Where he went was not of the slightest im-portance-—or was it? Why did these people want him? And what was the secret of their unfriendly interest in Hector Cousins, Wayne Garfield —and Naomi Bantyre? Could there be any connection between these two things? The thought of Naomi brought her face before him again, wistful, appealing, almost frightened—that was how he had seen it before he sat down to dine when, instead driving him hence ere he had committed himself, it had seemed to invite him to stay. Could there have been something prophetic in that vision? Did she need help from him? With sudden resolution he got to his feet. “I’ll come with you!” he said. CHAPTER V. THE GANG “Good!” The big man, pleased with Mark’s consent, beckoned bis party and went toward the exit. Mark followed, trying to appear unconscious of the head waiter holding the door open while he and his underlings gaped as though at some rare creature from another world. They got their hats and coats, and went into the street, where a luxurious motor-car was waiting at the kerb. The big man opened the door. “Jump in!” he said. Mark obeyed, the others found seats, and they slipped smoothly away. Mark slumped into his corner of the back seat, limp and exhausted now that the long tension of his nerves was suddenly relaxed. He was as tired as if just emerging from a period of sustained physical exertion, and his brain, usually active and alert, was dull and unreceptive. Presently, however, mind and body began to assert themselves against inertia, and he pulled himself together, trying to grasp his surroundings. There was no light in the car, but enough came from outside to allow of his making out the figures of his companions, and occasional gleams from street lamps gave him glimpses of their faces. The big man shared the seat with him, sifting back in his corner with hands'folded in his lap, making no attempt at conversation. He was faced by another man, so small and slight that he was almost hidden by the fur trimming of the elaborate cloak worn by the woman, who sat opposite Mark. He felt that all three were watching him, but these two were as silent as the other. Through the glass behind them he could see the third man of the party, seated beside the chauffeur. The knowledge that he was being subjected to a silent, unwavering scrutiny in the semi-darkness gave

him an uncanny sensation; the air was heavy with a cloying odour of scent used by the woman. To his excited imagination it suggested the idea of incense offered as a preliminary to some unhallowed sacrifice to which he was being carried as the victim. The light of an arc lamp illuminated the woman’s face for an instant. She smiled and flashed him a look quite evidently intended to be more than friendly. ' He had no desire to be friendly with her. She struck him as being most of the things he thought a Woman should not be. He averted his gaze, turning to the window beside him, and noting mechanically that they were going in the direction of Bayswater; then, dimly, he seemed to see the face of another woman as a faint, shadowy reflection in the glass, with that wistful, halfappealing smile that had made him catch his breath when she seemed about to come to him before she left the restaurant with her companions. He stared at the vision, wondering if her face had really worn that expression, or if imagination had deceived him. Could she really have been on the point of asking him for help? The uotion seemed fantastic. And, if she had asked it, what help could he have offered? Shame at the humiliation to which he had exposed himself flooded over him again. He swung round on the big man and demanded brusquely: "Where are you taking me?” “Only a little farther on.” The fat hands were unclasped and one waved in the direction the car was taking. “But what do you want with me?” “All that in good time. There maybe a good deal to discuss. We don’t want to have to break off before we have fairly begun.” Mark flung himself hack with a sense of baffled helplessness. He felt like a captive in the meshes of a net that robbed him of power to act as he willed. When a few minutes later the ear slowed down and came to rest before a block of flats he leaned forward on the point of tearing open the door and making a bolt for it. The impulse died as quickly as it was born. Memory suddenly recalled the snatches of these people’s conversation overheard at dinner. Slight and disjointed as they were, they all pointed to a keen and distinctly unfriendly interest felt by tvis present companions in Wayne Garfield, Hector Cousins and possibly, though of this he was not so sure, in Naomi Bantyre. Those last remarks, which had so roused his anger, might suggest that their interest in Mark himself sprang from a hope that he could be used in some tray for the gratification of their enmity. The notion seemed grotesque, yet it stuck, deciding him to hear what they wanted with him and deal with any proposition as he thought best when it was before him. If they were looking for someone to help in causing trouble to Naomi Bantyre, they would

find they had slipped up badly in selecting him! * The man in front had alighted and the little man got down beside him. The third followed more slowly, saying to Mark: “Come along. Everything will soon be clear to you now.” Mark stepped to the pavement, and, with the courtesy which was second nature to him. gave his hand to the woman. Her fingers closed on his with quite unnecessary warmth and she smiled at him again as, with a swish of silk and a flash of slim, daintily-stockinged leg, she descended from the car. Mark dropped her hand and turned to find the three men grouped about him as though their object were to form a bodyguard. The big man emphasised the impression by slipping his arm through Mark’s and leading him into the building, with the others keeping close behind. They went up to the second floor, where a latchkey admitted them to one of the flats. “Come right in,” said the big man with an attempt to make his rasping voice sound genial. “This is my little domicile. I expect the fellow who looks after it for me has gone to bed, but we shall be able to find drinks and smokes for ourselves —Hello! Who has been here?” He had opened the door of a room and was staring in front of him. The others, crowding round, saw that a small safe which stood against the opposite wall had been forced open. Its door swung wide on its hinges, and its interior was empty, save for a slip of paper which lay on the bottom. Pushing his way into the room, the man who had sat in front of the car shook his fist in the big man’s face exclaiming furiously: “Somebody has got away with it! You’ve let us in! I’ve always told you any fool could open that lousy safe with a pocket knife!" “I know yon did, Rosenbach,” said the big man sneeringly. “And I’ve always told you to try it if you wanted to. You would have found no more than whoever has done it now and you can see for yourself wha.t that is, for they left it behind!” He pointed to the paper on the floor of the safe. Rosenbach sprang forward and snatched it up. Something was written on it and he read it aloud: “ ‘You may open the safe with a penknife, but you can’t find what you want without brains!’ What does it mean?” he asked thickly. “Just what it says. I had a fancy somebody might have a go at opening that safe so I left that there to prevent his finding nothing at all!” “What does this mean about opening it with a penknife?” Rosenbach SUPEIII-’f UOL : S tiAIK destroyed dv “RDSMA” (Eega.). Signed, stamped guaranteed cure £5 12s 6d.— Florence Hullen, C.M.D., 7 Courtenay Place, Wellington. Send stamped addressed envelope for particulars.

spluttered. "Do you think I had any hand in this?” “I don’t know who had a hand in it.’’ returned the big man slowly, and, for a moment, the two of them stood looking suspiciously into each other's eyes; “but I'm goiug to find out and when I do I’il have a reckoning with him!” He turned suddenly and went out of the room. They heard him going hurriedly through the flat, calling at the top of his voice: “Bastow! Bastow! Where are you? Bastow!” But he could not find the person for whom he sought. CHAPTER VI. QUESTIONABLE The big man came back presently and. shutting the door of the room, stood with his back against it, ignoring Mark but darting quick, scowling glances at his three associates. “Bastow’s gone,” he said laconically after a pause. “Gone?” echoed the woman. “Do you mean ?” "Just that!” he interrupted her

brusquely. “He’s gone—cleared our and takeu his traps with him. :-o one thing seems clear: He did that.” he waved his hand toward the safe, “and had everything ready to mate a getaway before he started on it. * “But you say lie didn’t get what he was looking for?” said Rosenbach. “He did not, for the best of reasons. It wasn’t in the safe nor in the flat.” “Where is it, then?” “That’s my business.” “It’s ours as well! We arc all in this! We have a right to know where you keep it! Suppose anything happened to you!” Rosenbach’s guttural voiee gre w thicker and the veins stood out on his Semitic face. The big man regarded him for a while with an angry frown, then he snarled: “That’s just why I keep Its whereabouts to myself! I can be fairly sure that nothing will happen to me while I am the only one who fcnowa that!” His glance swept over the faces before him, and Mark sensed an atmosphere of suspicion in the room; but his own presence had be«n recalled by that glance, and the big man’s manner changed suddenly. (To be Continued Tomorrow. >