CHECKMATE

Taranaki Daily News, 17 February 1931, Page 11

CHECKMATE

By SYDNEY HORLOR.

There were two reasons why Lady Wentworth had decided to accept this unexpected invitation. The first was to teach her nephew, Bobby, what she considered ho needed very badly—namely, a salutary lesson. She desired to demonstrate to him two things. The first was .that she was quite capable of conducting her own affairs, and, incidentally, in being able to look after hei self, and,' secondly, she wanted to prove that he was entirely wrong in making the malicious statement that the girl to whom she had taken such a fancy was an associate of crooks. To be on the safe side, she was not going to wear her pearls on this visit to the villa perched away in some preposterously inaccessible position in Super-Cannes (these were i»ow resting securely in the hotel safe), but that had been merely an elementary precaution. She might be attacked during the journey to or from the villa. , ' That was the first reason —to be able to prove to Bobby that he had been entirely wrong in his surmises and fears. The second was that she really had been very attracted to that delightful English girl. There might be something rather peculiar about the aunt—there was something she could not quite put a name to—but .the girl herself was really charming. She was flawless; everything about her rang true. In earlier days a very beautiful woman herself,- Isobel Wentworth liked to. be surrounded by youthful fragrance. At the back of her mind she was conjecturing what she could, do to help. Mary Mallory upon her return to 'London. If only Bobby had had'an' atom, of common sense.-. . . but the boy was hopeless. Waiting. in .the lounge for. the car which was to take-her to dinner at the Villa Graciosa, she beckoned to a waiter. “Gustave, please ring up the Majestic again and see if Mr. Wingate has returned.” ' , ' , It was too provoking of Bobby to be behaving like this. Why. had he taken her so literally? He had left his hotex early the previous morning and had not yet returned, the concierge had said. Had he said where he was going? No, but Monsieur Wingate must have made up his mind very quickly, because he had not taken any clothes—not even a parcel. This the valet de chambre had been called to the telephone to testify. Strange behaviour, of course, but the boy had been annoyed and had probably gone on a short walking tour in sheer bad temper. He would return purged of his ill-humour and all would be well lf he were nice, she would not rub it in too badly about the mistake he had made over Mary Mallogy—how well the name suited that sweet girl! “The concierge at the Majestic regrets to say, Madame,-that Mr. Wingate has not yet returned -to the hotel.” “Thank you, Gustave.” The man bowed and withdrew.

She might have pondered over the news more, but a moment later the announcement was made that the car she had b i exp.cting had arrived. The chauffeur who saluted her at the hotel entrance was not open to criticism; neither was the car—a large Voison saloon—he drove so admirably. The speed with which she travelled on those bumpy roads was not conducive to thought, and Lady Wentworth postponed any further ponderings on the peculiar conduct of her nephew to another and more suitable occasion. Dinner was nearly over. Although she hated to admit the fact, Lady Wentworth was beginning to experience a distinct feeling of uneasiness—indeed, fear was not too strong a word. From the first she had had suspicions.

The Comtesse, who had greeted her so warmly, had been profuse with lamentations. -

“I am afraid I have some disappointments for you, Lady Wentworth,” she said, as they walked into the diningroom. “To begin with, Mary is not at all well.”

“Oh, I. am ever so sorry.” “She caught a chill or something, I am afraid. She was perfectly all right until lunch-time but then complained of being shivery. After taking her temperature and. finding that it was just over a hundred I packed her straight off to bed.” “Very wisely, I think. There is a good deal of pneumonia about. Poor child, as I say, I am very sorry; I was so looking forward to seeing her.” “Perhaps you will still be able to. The doctor is coming at 8.30 again. I hope you will not think it too dull dining alone with me?” “My dear Comtesse,” was the polite rejoinder, “I am quite sure I shall enjoy myself tremendously.” She had—in a. way. The food was excellent, the wines were well chosen, whilst for sauce she had that mysterious quality about her hostess which she had noticed over tea at Les Ambassadeurs the afternoon before. The woman had a strong personality but whether it was definitely evil she wcould not yet decide. It was odd that tile very evening on which she came to the villa the girl, who had been the means used to bring her there, should -be taken ill. However, until the meal was half over, she decided that the circumstance perhaps went no further than being merely odd. They were waited on by a strikinglooking maid whom the Comtesse addressed as Nadia. She noticed this girl eyeing her rather curiously from time to time, but it was not until after the telephone message for her hostess came that she attached any importance to this behaviour.

“Bother!” exclaimed the Comtesse vexatiously upon returning to the room; “everything has gone wrong to-night, Now we are to have no music. Midal and Sophie Conway have telephoned (they always take engagements together, you know) to say that they find they will not be able to keep their appointment here owing to being kept at the Sporting. I think it disgraceful conduct, and I have a good mind to sue them.” “I doubt if you would receive any satisfaction.”

“■You are sure you do no|, mind, Lady Mfentworth? You do not blame me too much ?"

“Certainly not. Why should I? It is not your fault. Besides—may I make a confession?” “Do!” The Comtesse leaned forward, an encouraging smile on her lips. “I am not particularly fond of music. A good orchestra, yes—but my taste isn’t developed beyond that. It is a lamentable confession, no doubt, but I like to be honest. What I propose is that we go to the Casino earlier than we had arranged—but, of course, you would not care to leave your niece,” she added quickly. . Before her hostess could reply, there came a startling interruption. A girl, whose nightdress was torn, whose face was drawn and unnaturally white, and whose eyes held a dreadful look of terror, burst into the room. One quick, frenzied look round and, with a tremendous sigh of relief,' she rushed at Lady Wentworth. ‘’They mean to rob you!” she cried; igo away—they’re crooks! They’ve locked me in my room because they thought Go away! . . . ...the pearls. . . . I suspected and meant to warn you. The voice dragged on. the last woi and then 'the speaker fell prostrate the floor. The visitor rose. “So that is the explanation, Comtesse the icy contempt she put into ,the las word made even the hardened listener flush “I had already formed certain suspicions and this poor girl has merely confirmed them.” She stooped and rais ed the unconscious fdrm of Mary Mal‘T intend to take this girl, who I am convinced has no relationship to you, back to Cannes. And directly I reach my hotel, I' shall make it my business to communicate with the police. ’ “Fardon, but may I see my patient, please? I . find she is not in her room. Ah! But what has happened here? A man carrying a black bag such as doctors use, stood on the thrcshold of the room, peering in with inquisitive Philippe! How thankful I am that you have come!” The Comtesse Zamoyski put ..intense feeling into the words. “You ask me what has happened? Believe me, I am as much at a loss as yourself —even more so because no doubt you can give me a medical explanation for the extraordinary behaviour of my niece.” “Yes—perhaps.” The man with the black bag came further, into the room and looked at . Lady Wentworth, who still had her arms round the subject of the conversation. . i < <„ “May-. I enquire who-this lady is? 31 °“Pardon.! I- should have introduced you. Lady Wentworth—Dr. Philippe, who has been attending - Mary.” Isobel Wentworth acknowledged the bow which the man gave her by the merest nod. She had mixed feelings, for she was uncertain whether this man. was a genuine medico or merely an additional member of the crooked gang. In any -case, she did not intend to allow the girl who had given her the warning, as such risk to herself, to be taken out of her sight. The man -with the bag Seated himself< V ' ... “Before I make my examination, please tell me everything that has happened since this afternoon when I paid my first call,” he said in precise, formal tones. His ’ English was practically perfect. Assuming that her suspicion concerning him was justified, the Englishwoman had to admit that he might very well be a French doctor with a large Cosmopolitan Riviera practice. He was small in build, but dapper in appearance. His horn-rimmed pince-nez were extremely professional. His manner, too, was brisk and businesslike. If he were a crook, he was also a master-actor. The Comtesse took up her story. “I had no idea that anything was wrong until a few minutes ago. Lady Wentworth, who has been my guest at dinner to-night, had just mentioned that she thought of. visiting the Casino tonight when —you can understand what a terrible shock it was to me—my niece burst in and started raving.”

“So.” Dr. Philippe leaned forward. “Although I did not mention the fact to you, Madarne the Comtesse, this afternoon when I called, because of alarming you, perhaps unnecessarily, yet the possibility of mademoiselle's illness taking this form was apparent to me. The brain-fever —” “Excuse me,’’ broke in Lady Wentworth, “but if you are really a doctor you will know that there is no such thing as brain-fever.” “I beg your pardon.” Dr. Philippe, in no way disturbed, turned'his horn-rim-, med pince-nez in the interruptor’s direction.

“You must have heard perfectly well what I said. My cousin, Sir Farquhar Carteret, who is one of the best known doctors in London, has told me more that once that the term ‘brain-fever’ is merely a product of the novelist’s imagination, and that it has no foundation in fact.

Dr. Philippe bowed. “With all due deference io my distinguished confrere, I maintain that the excited cerebral condition from which this unfortunate girl,” pointing to Mary, “is suffering, is best described by the term I have used. But,” briskly, “we waste time. Permit me to ask you Comtesse, to continue. “Well, as I was'saying, doctor—when my niece burst into the room a few minutes ago, she behaved like someone who was quite mad. She made use of statements which were so preposterous that they could only be accounted for by the fact that her brain was temporarily deranged. She accused me of being a criminal, and warned Lady Wentworth that my reason in inviting her here this evening was because I intended to rob her of her pearls. Of course, Lady Wentworth did not regard the words seriously.” “On the contrary, I regarded them very seriously indeed.” “'Lady Wentworth!” “You will not frighten me.” said the Englishwoman firmly. “As it happens my nephew, Mr. Robert Wingate, warn-

ed me that you were a criminal. I did not believe him at the time—for which I shall do due penance—but, nevertheless, I took the precaution of placing my jewels in the hotel safe before leaving to-night. Your scheming has been in vain, Madame la Comtesse!” “I refuse to be insulted like this—• I must ask you to leave immediately.” “Not unless I take this girl with me.” Dr. Philippe’ rose quickly from his chair.

“My first duty is to my. patient,” he said sternly, “otherwise I would, inform you, Lady Wentworth, how thoroughly unfounded your absurd suspicions are concerning the Comtesse Zamoyski. She is, from my personal knowledge, a lady of the highest integrity.” “I scarcely think you are an unprejudiced critic. He stamped his fpot angrily. “The next thing you will say, perhaps, is that I—Charles Philippe —am not a iully qualified medical man!” She stood to her guns. “You may be a qualified medical man, but my firm conviction is that, like this woman, your associate, you are an unprincipled adventurer, and I refuse to allow you to place a hand on thie unfortunate girl. “But this is intolerable!” exclaimed the Comtesse.

“It would seem that derangement of the little grey cells is not confined to one person in this room,” commented Dr. Philippe; “allow me to ask you, Comtesse, to ring th© bell. My. first duty, as I have said, is to my patient.” There proved to be no need, however, for the Comtesse to ring, for scarcely had the doctor made the request than a man and woman entered the room. Lady Wentworth recognised the former as being the companion of the Comtesse in the baccarat room on the previous evening, whilst the woman was the striking-looking maid who had waited at dinner.

She knew that there would be no further pretence—or delay. These people were in grim earnest; they meant business. Yet she still maintained her composure, standing guard over the unconscious Mary Mallory. “Get this woman out of the room,” ordered the Comteese.

They approached her, one on either side. The expression on their faces was terrifying—the woman’s lips were drawn back so that the teeth were shown, whilst them an was smiling in a set, determined manner that evidenced his evil inteiltions.

Suddenly they Hun* themselves on her. She tried to strike out with her hands as a man would have done, but against these two merciless assailants she, of course, had no chance from the beginning. It was incredible—but the man actually used his fist, knocking her viciously on the chin so that she collapsed, whilst everything went black about her. (To be Continued).