CHECKMATE

Taranaki Daily News, 26 February 1931, Page 15

CHECKMATE

J By SYDNEY HORLOR. i

“DO not resist,” whispered M. Caron, “I will go to find Paul Joubert. You will excuse mei now M. le.Juge?” he «,sked, turning to the official and speaking in a louder tone, “my presence is demanded back at the hotel.” _ “You have permission to withdraw, M. Caron,” was the gracious rejoinder. “Come, Mademoiselle” said the Commissaire. , ~ . , “My God, this is damnable! cried Bobby; He was looking at the girl he now knew he loved. Her face was white and drawn; she appeared on the point of collapse. “She is innocent!” he shouted at the Juge d’lnstruction. “In IJrance, I would remind you, Monsieur, an accused .'person is held to be; guilty until his innocence is definitely established.” ■ “An iniquitous system!” replied Wingate—and then the door opened. A man at whom everybody stared stood on the threshold. ... . There was a tense silence whilst the eyes of the . visitor—a tall, well-built man with distinguished features and keen, searching eyes. ■ ' . Then M. Caron rushed forward. “Mon cher Monsieur Joubert!” he exclaimed, Joubert! “Are you Paul Joubert!” Bobby Wingate in two leaps was by stranger s side. “That is my name,” replied the other. “But first, please allow me to speak to M. le Juge d’lnstruction.” The latter frowned, but the look of displeasure was soon replaced by an expression of amazement. “But this is incredible!” he exclaimed when the visitor had finishing speaking. “You say the man has confessed!” “In a vain endeavour to try to save himself from going to Devil’s Island.”

Wingate broke in. “What’a this about someone confessing!” he demanded. “Monsieur Joubert, you have come at the right moment. My name is Wingate—Robert Wingate—and I have a letter of introduction to you from my friend, Lord Delabrae.” .■ ~ . „ , “Lord Delabrae,” replied the French Secret Service man, “he is an original, that one. Tell me, how is he?” “He' was very well the last time x saw him—a week ago in London. But Delabrae can wait—the Juge d Instruction insists upon arresting my fiancee, he indicated Mary, “upon the perfectly preposterous charge of murdering Lady Wentworth.” Paul Joubert bowed. ■ r “Monsieur Wingate, and you, Mademoiselle Mallory, allow me to bpng you good news. I have arrested the real murderer. His name is Jose Santos and he has already made a confession. It. happened that I have been keeping an eye on the two women with whom he worked, and this morning I crossed the frontier in company-with- some ot mV men. The Italian authorities gave me every assistance and we arrested the three at an obscure hotel 40 miles from Mentone. They are outside aow-oh, closely- guarded, I assure you, and thi» heaven-sent messenger of joy smiled again* CHAPTER XXV. JOY IN THE END.

•Why did you say I was your fiancee!” asked. Mary. They were seated in the most secluded corner of the dining-room of a wayside inn high, above Monte Carlo. To:escapd from iG&nnes for a few' hour's after the terribW* experiences which had befallen them there had been imperative. The air “of the town of flowers and sports” how grimly ironical the phrase had returned’ to Mary’s memory—had become intolerable. News of the tragedy had not leaded out —particulars of crimes committeed on the Riviera have a mysterious way of never finding their way into the newspapers —but’nevertheless the place seemed insufferable. “I scarcely realised what I was saying,” Wingate said. “You must try to forgive me—l had no right, of course. Are you very angry!”. “No, I am not angry with you—how could I be angry, with you! —but I don’t think I shall ever be able to forgive myself. What a fool I’ve been! There were so many things to warn me, and I pushed them all on one side. I thought I was being clever. . “You .have been more than clever—you have proved yourself thebravest woman I have ever known.”

“No, I wasn’t a bit brave; I was terrified. ..” At the memory she caught hold of his arm and clung to it.

He put that same arm about her. “I’ll take you straight back to England,” he said; “there you’ll be able to forget; ■ Everything’s settled now. Why, even that Juge d’lnstruction is satisfied.” “But I’m not.” “You’re not!”

“No. I should like to know how they made me write that letter to the manager of the Chester —because I did write it; at least, it was in my handwriting.” “Joubert will know,” answered Wingate, confidently; “what a wonderful chap that it.”

“He’s been very wonderful to us,” she agreed, softly. * * * *

They lingered as long as they could, and then Bobby turned the car towards Cannes. . “You will stay at the Majestic tonight,” he said. She -nodded. She had neither . the strength nor the will to argue. Besides, being looked after in this way was very comforting. z Almost the first person they met in the hall of the hotel was Paul Joubert. “I go from success to success, mon iami,” he said to Wingate, in a tone of ironical self-congratulation; “admit now that I am irresistible and all-conquer-ing?” , “I’m willing to admit anything about you, old chap; you have the Surete beaten a mile. But what’a the news this time?” “Only that I have arrested, the otnci membei’ of the organisation with which you, Mademoiselle,” bowing to Mary, “were so innocently associated.” “Do you mean the bogus doctor fellow?” asked Bobby. “Yes. ‘Bogus doctor’ is a correct description of the canaille. He is a professional criminal, specialising in drugsmuggling and hypnotism. . If the police here had had any sense they would have arersted him before —he had given them sufficient cause for suspicion long before the present affair.” “Hypnotism,” echoed'Mary. “An old trick, but sometimes a very effective one,” was the reply. “I have no doubt that the letter to our friend Caron, of the Hotel Chester, was written by you, Mademoiselle, whilst you were in a hypnotic state, and under the direct influence of this man Philippe.” “That clears up the final point, then. Wingate held out his hand. “Mere words seem a very poor return for what you have done for us, Joubert —but I know you’ll take my word for it that we are both very, very grateful.” ■ “Alors! It was all in the day’s work. And, in any case, to have done a service to two such charming people—oh, but I am well repaid.” « # # *

Looking out of the window, Mary saw the rain descending in sheets. It was a day to chill and discourage the most optimistic, but in her heart was a happiness which nothing could affect. Dear old London! That was the song in her heart. Let those who liked it have the sunshine and the hectic gaiety of the Cote d’Azur; she had seen behind the mask, and the sight had sickened and terrified her. It could rain as hard as it liked; fogs and hurricanes could do their worst—she was glad to be home. Home! What' a blessed word. . . At present it consisted merely of a couple of rooms in a Bloomsbury apartment house, but she was content. She kept telling herself she was the happiest person in the world —certainly the very happiest girl. . . Throiigh the pouring rain came a smart two-seater car. It stopped with a flourish, and a. man, almost in the same instant, leaped out upon the pavement. In two strides he was at the front door, in another ho was inside the hall. “Darling!” he said, breathlessly—that was all. . When the door was closed behind them, Mai-y smiled at her visitor over the roses which he had brought. “I. suppose it is all right for a bashful maiden to receive a gcntleffian visitor alone in her sumptuous apartments,” she said'. ' “All right! - I’d like) the rest of' the world to try to keep me out!” challenged Bobby Wingate; “and as for this”— waving a hand round the poorly-furnish-ed room—“you’re going to say good-bye to it straight away.” “Oh, indeed!” ‘•‘Yes. I have spoken. Mary, dear, if you put your hand inside l my coat pocket—and promise not to tickle—you’ll find a present.” “But you’ve already bought me these wonderful roses.”

Het accepted lover smiled. “You’ll find Something far more interesting in that pocket than mere roses.” “Could anything in this world be more interesting than roses?” “Yes,” he replied, with a flash of inspiration, “roses fade—but the—er —the other thing will never die —not so far as I am concerned.”

She drew out a long envelope and took from it a thick piece of paper which crinkled. This she studied, whilst the blood mounted into her cheeks.

“A special license!” she cried, faintly. “I couldn’t wait, dear,” he explained. “Mary, if you yon’t marry me at once, I’ll—” The remainder of the sentence was left unfinished. Like the rest of mankind, Bobby was not able to solve. the problem of continuing a speech at the same moment that he was kissing a girl. And, of course, he didn’t want to. * * * * It only remains to say that Jessie Stevens was principal bridesmaid, whilst Lord Delabrae’s deportment as. best man occasioned general admiration. THE END.