CHECKMATE

Taranaki Daily News, 9 February 1931, Page 14

CHECKMATE

J9y

SYDNEY NORLOR.

7 ’ CHAPTER 3WTH. /<;-' •■'■■■ REVELATION. ' Bobby Wingate waited until his aunt jcjfie from the baccarat table, flushed by her■:success. \ ■ --... '• *lt Is,, perhaps, too much to expect that you are now going home!” he fipquired satirically, s'.. . < ‘Why should I go home,dear boy! jha replied; ‘T hare just won eight hunijfrefl pound?!”, "Such a Victory, surely calls for a jnild celebration—have you had. sup'Jjier!’U'/': : -i '■ - . ■ “A capital idea,* observed the wm»?r; ‘‘because I am feeling . generous I (will /be your hostess, Bobby.- But only on one condition,. remember; I will halva no long faces, po, recriminations, ajd. no lectures. Is it agreed?” : will make nd promises.” His aunt shrugged her still attractive Jdioulders. < ■ .' ‘‘Nothing you can say will-affect my . appetite— winning has given it a zest. [You live ep prosaically yourself, Bobby, that;l do.'not suppose you- have ever made the interesting discovery that excitement brings a tremendous ■ longing ; fortfopd?*. ~ ./' • -: “I am the original Simple Simon,” he gently mocked; “let me sit at your feet and ■ imbibe further misdom.” ■ .'lt was not until the meal was over and : Lady Wentworth was enjoying a cigarette with ■ her coffee that Bobby said what was in his mind. s*r want you to take me .seriously for once, my dear,” he stated very solemnly; “you won -to-night, as you say, but very near, you was "a notorious woman crook who had her eye on your pearls.” ’Tfin listener' touched, the jewels- in (question. “Ever so . many people, I have no doubt, admired my pearls to-night. But they, are still in my possession, as you may observe.” ‘ Bobby felt that his. cup was overflowing. In his anger he spoke sharpiy—and hastily. , *lf that girl sitting next, to. you ever fries to make up to you, , cut her dead ■r—that’s my final advice,” he said. “Now you are being perfectly P r ®" posterous,” replied his aunt; “you are losing absolutely all sense of proportion. Really, Bobby, I am beginning honestly- think you' should consult a ; (fleeter. .'.Z',, ‘TH add just this,” he concluded, “that girl is here with - a woman who was pointed out to me by no leas a person than Dick Delabrae as being ,a, notori- - •uscrook.” , , r “Where was this!” ’ . , “At the Rosy Dawn Club; only three irighta ago.”?,, 'iffis aunt remained incorrigible. ‘‘Dicky Delabrae has a,very elastic imagination, ■ . And if ■■ every woman who was said to ,'be crook .left;.Cannes tonight, how. many would -fcerdeft? In any. ease, I-refuse to believe for a moment that the very charming girl who next to me. tonight was anything but .what. ,she seem<ed .to be. Why,,she eyen passed me the bank! Go home and sleep it off,' dear!” ■ Wingate’s ill-temper did not lessen as the'night wore ■ on. He reached his hqtel at. half-past one—an' early hour for Cannes, where night is turned into dfc.y—but the thought of sleep was injtolerabl?* i . '.> -Z •-•>/ '. .£ . -,Tha ‘.memory of: Mary. Mallory’s face At the Bapcarat Room that rnght haunted him; it was like a.painfully -disturbing dream-/ Wflat had caused that loojcof* horrific surprise! Was it her conscience pupishing her! Hijd she been startled by his unexpected presence just at the moment that she was consolidating her. position with Lady Wentworth! He knew it was a damnable suggestion., but did not jtfle '.facts warrant it? - He reviewed these facts again: Here was a girl iwho, although. apparently innocent enough, associated -with a woman notorious to those in the Ignow as a' criminal. She had had the opportunity to explain this association, but had not dene so. Within a few hours she was found sitting next to a woman whose pearls were worth a fortune. They were evidently on friendly terms. With the camaraderie which exists in hcasino, it was understandable, in a measure, that Lady Wentworth should become friendly with the girl on her left who had experienced such an extraordinary run of luck, but the cirstances in this case ruled out ®m element of chance. Coincidence eould not go eo far as this. The girl was sitting by his aunt through set design—-either on. her own. part, or through the instrumentality of the woman who called herpjlf the Comtesse Zamoyski. Thea came a revulsion of fueling. ■Th® memory of the conversation he had overheard at the Rosy Dawn a few njghta before made him suddenly ashamed. He had been behaving like a ead, condemning the girl unheard. He had allowed influences entirely beyond Mary Mallory’s cohtrol to prejudice the girl a gainst him. To have snubbed her in th® casino that njghb-it was simply unforgivable. No matter what the provocation, he should have • behaved decently. It might be that the girl had a 'good enough reason for keeping her association with the-Zamoyski woman a secret— it might be that she was even B -tool, an unconscious decoy. ’ ?As this thought flashed through his mind, he walked rapidly into the half of the hotel Ta night hall-porter hastened up to him. 4 <X want you to get through on the telephone to. the Villa Gr&cipsa at SuperQannes— quickly, please.” : Th» man bowed and went to his ofjfle®. ' Within half a minute he was back. "The Villa GraciOsa is on the telephone, M’sieur.” Bobby's hand was a trifle unsteady M he picked up the receiver. TJulloa,” he said, “is that the Villa Graciosa! It is. Good. Will you pjease tell m® if Miss Mallory is there! She is. oh, she’s gone to bed. Thank vou; no, I’ll ring up in the morning. What name! Oh, tell her it was a friend staying at the Majestic, will ypu! Thanks yery much. Good-night.” 1 It was the Zgmoyski .woman- at the . other end. Had the girl , really gone to bed, .or was this merely an excuse to prevent Mary from speaking-to him? But h® would soon know; in the morning he was going to drive up to the villa and demand to see the girl herself. If ; necessary,' he would use his aunt’s name. That would open the gates, ha felt ■. certain. Mary also found it impossible to sleep. ■ After another half-an-hour of vain endeavour, she sat up in bed and switched on the light. Then she lit a cigarette, thinking it would soothe her nerves. But ft-required a far more powerful nar®ptic than Virginia, tobacco to bring her peace. Why had Wingat® looked at her in that horrible way! What had she done to deserve it? He wasn’t such a . Puritan as to pbject to a girl playing baccarat, surely? No, that was ridicutiiere must be another reason.

(To be Continued.)

Her offended pride kept her restless. ■ The - suspense became intolerable. An explanation was due to her—and she was determined to have it. Whatever Wingate might think, she was going to ask him way he had treated her so contemptuously' in. the Baccarat Room that night. The man was a gentleman—or appeared to be one. He would not refuse an explanation. For a moment she buoyed herself up with- the thought that .perhaps he could not have recognised her-—he might have believed it was a stranger who was trying—horrid phrase—io “get off” with him. But that could not have been the case, she told herself a minute later. No man’s memory could possibly be so bad for faces as to fail to remember a person from - whom he had parted only a few hours previously. She. looked at her watch. A quarter to.;two, late for home, but, according to the Comtesse, still early for Cannes. It was unlikely that Wingate would have gone-to bed. He might still be in the Casino, although, when she had looked round, for him after that first bewildering surprise, he had disappeared—at least, she h?d not been able to see him. She would ring him up at the hotel.

No sooner had this resolve been born than she decided to act upon it. Her determination to get to the root of this mystery made every other factor appear valueless.

Slipping on a dressing-gown, she switched off the light and turned the key: in her bedroom door. The next moment she was out in the cold passage.

Until the moment that she passed the door of the Cointes.se’s bedroom, she had not given any consideration to what her employer might say about using the telephone at that unusual hour.

The door of the room was closed. No doubt the Comtesse was in bed and sound asleep. There only remained Santos and that destestable maid who, she felt, disliked her. But Santos was still there —she had not heard any motor drive up to the Villa since going to her bedroom. . She-remembered noticing that the telephone was placed in a kind of alcove off the/big hall. It was thus'easily accessible from any of the reception rooms on the ground floor. The whole house was still, but from a room on the left of where she now stood listening, after switching on the . light, came the sound.of voices. It was necessary for her to pass the door of this room in order to get to the telephone. She had never been guilty of eavesdropping in her: life before, but the first words she heard as she passed the door kept her rooted to the spot in horror.

It was Santos talking. /“I’m goipg to get, , that necklace if I a wing-for it. First of all, I will see to the man. .-. yes, to-morrow. Then there will be/no interruption. The rest I shall have to leave to you. We will meet as arranged in ” The voice broke-off in brittle fashion.

“What’s that light doing out. there ?” he cried; “someone's come in.” - . ‘‘Rubbish!” Mary.recognised, the voice of the Comtesse;. “who could have come in? . It’s Nadia, no doubt.” She raised her voice to.call: “Nadia.” Mary was attacked by a swift and merciless sense-of terror. She must get away—and without being seen. Everything depended on her not being seen. At the. first sound of a scraping chair she turned to . flee, her hand brushing the : switch -of the electric light ; which gave .the hill illumination as she ran. She heard a~snapped-off oath, but she was safely out of eight by this time and running up the stairs as' fast as her trembling legs would- carry her. The bedroom slippers she wore made no sound. Had they done so, she would have .been betrayed. By the time she reached her room — hidden away at the top of the house — her heart was threatenng to burst. After locking the door, she tore off her dress-ing-gown and got immediately into bed. Her heart still raced. It seemed it would never slacken to normal pace. But it was beginning to quieten its alarming speed when a knock sounded on the door—a knock that was at once stealthy and yet peremptory. Thank goodness, her brain had thought of this, eventuality. The suspicion of the Zamoyski woman and her confederate, that mincing mannikin, who had now changed by the. utterance of a few words from an absurdity into a horror, would certainly be directed against her when they discovered there was no Naida, and she had tried to prepare herself for tire ordeal which seemed inevitable. Her heart started to race again—and at. a. greater-speed than before. Soon, if it ’did not stop, she would be breathless.

“Mary!” The Comtesse wae calling her. Intuition made her wait,another few seconds. They must not think she was lying awake; she had to ba roused. Another knock. “Mary!”—again. Afraid that her voice would betray her, she murmured a sleepy “hullo” in reply; and then, clenching her teeth, she got' out of bed, switched on the light and walked across the room. Turning the key, she opened the door. Outside were the Comtesse and Jose Santos. The former seemed composed, but’the latter’s face was livid; the max was breathing hard. “Did you want me, Comtesse? I am afraid I was asleep.” She had to lie. “I thought I heard you call—and that you were not well, dear,” was the reply* Kindly enough word?, but looking at the pair, and catching the gleam in Santos’ eyes, Mary felt an unnerving fp.a.r strike her another blow.