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Taranaki Daily News, 20 February 1933, Page 10

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I. M. GILBERT

CHAPTER XII.-— (Continued.) ‘‘First,’’ she announced, “we must try to substitute another oar for ths one that has been ordered. If we succeed, you, Henderson, will impersonate the hired driver. Macnicol and my nephew will start out in my car during the night ®o as to reach Lethy Keep well ahead of you. They will hide tn the tower, and when your two passengers arrive they will surprise and tie them up.” “We mustn’t forget the man Siddon,” I said. “Of course not. You will watch for him, and, if necessary, catch and tie him up also,” answered my amazing relative, as if she were quite used to that sort of thing. She then asked the two men if they were willing to help us, or had any questions they wished answered before coming to a decision. She pointed out that they had a perfect right to refuse to take part in an enterprise which was admittedly dangerous. Henderson was really too overcome with joy to speak, and merely nodded his head and winked at me—a thing he would never have dreamed of doing in the presence of his mistress in ordinary circumstances. “There is just one request I would be after for making,” said Macnicol. “Will Miss Graham please he remembering that the flower-bed near the gate needs digging up? Inteet, it’s myself will be doing It if I come back, but with an affair like this we might be getting delayed altogether." So that was that, and my aunt, after reassuring the gardener about the flower-bed, went on to discuss our plans in detail. We arranged that Henderson and I should drive into Edinburgh before dinner to fix up the exchange of cars. Then we got out a map and studied it. On the main road, about a mile beyond Lethy Keep, is the little village of Kllnockle We decided that it would be better to leave my aunt’s car there instead of on the roadside, where it might attract attention, and we therefore had to allow time for Macnicol and I returning to the tower on foot. The actual method of ambushing the two men could not be worked out until we were on the spot, but the chauffeur promised that, on arrival at his destination, he would follow them up the hill as closely as he dared, in order to come to our help should we need him. For the rest, it was agreed that once we had secured our. prsoners, Macnicol would remain on guard while Henderson drove me to Carlisle in time for . the London train. Later, he would return to help Macnicol in keeping watch —a duty they would perform turn and turn about until relieved by-the police, as we hoped. Aunt Allison arranged to travel direct to London, putting up at the quiet family hotel where she is accustomed to stay, and I had to renew my promise to call for her there on my way to Scotland Yard. If I had, by then, secured the dispatch case all would be well; if not, she was to come with me to try and enlist the help of the police. buuliing back, I am amazed at our optimism, for there were a thousand chances against things going just as we desired, and the risks we were running were simply appalling. The worst feature of our scheme was that I lied no very clear idea of how to set about getting the dispatch case in uundbii; but I had very nearly managedjt beforehand somehow I felt I would succeed this time If only X 14 could be kept away. Honestly, I think it was Aunt Allison who led me on, for unlike her usual practical self, she was from the very beginning full of ail sorts of impossible suggestions, by comparison with which our Anal plan seemed almost sane and; Reasonable. ■Henderson was tremendously excited.

“Are you certain they will show fight, sir?” he asked me as we set off for the city. “It would be a terrible pity if they took it lyin’ doom” But I was able to reassure him on that point. "That’s fine, sir,” he smiled. “It’s no often I get a chance like this, arid to think of Miss Graham actually wanting me to fight! Please give me plenty of time to come up the hill, sir. I would never get over it if I got there too late!” At the garage to which Wace had telephoned I introduced myself as Mr Sykes, and told the clerk in the office to cancel the car for next morning. “Very good, sir,” he said; “that was the one for seven-thirty, wasn t it?” “No, for eight,” I corrected. “But didn’t you send a message about half an hour-ago changing the time to seven-thirty?.’ he asked in surprise. “Why, of course," I laughed, thinking what a close shave it had been. .“How forgetful of me.” Then, m case he might ring up the hotel to verify the order, I added, “However, this is quite definite now. Owing to my having to leave Edinburgh unexpectedly to-night, the ear won’t be required after all.” • We then went to another hiring company where approved customers are themselves allowed to drive the cars. As Henderson was well known here, I easily arranged for a large, closed four-seater to be at his disposal early next morning. Afterwards we called at a shop and purchased several lengths of strong, pliable rope. The chauffeur also' insisted upon buying a ball of / string, three woollen mufflers, and a couple or small sacks. When I facetiously asked him if the mufflers were to keep our captives warm, he became quite indignant. “They are real good for gagging people,” he explained. “The string is fine for tripping a buddy up; and, have you no heard, Mr Graham, what a grand knock-out-drop a sandbag can be? These sacks are Just the very thing; but dinna hit too hard, or we will be needin’- spades as well to bury your friends.” It struck me that Henderson, and not I, ought to have been in charge of the expedition, for he sounded as if sand-bagging and kidnapping were second nature to him. When we got back to Moorfields, my aunt and I had. dinner, then called a last-moment conference In the library. •If the oar driven by Henderson left the hotel at seven-thirty, we might expect it to arrive near the tower shortly before tan o’clock. We therefore decided that, in order to' give us plenty of time, Macnlool and I should be in position at eight at latest, especially as there was always the possibility of Bidden turning up early. After our final discussion we collected our gear and packed it in the sacks. Food we took in plenty, including four tins of bully be&f, for the prisoners would have to be fed; but water we decided to leave to chance — or, to be more accurate, to the river immediately below Lethy Keep. Macnicol rather shyly produced two empty whisky bottles to store It in. When the final preparations had been made we all retired to bed to try to get as much sleep as possible. I was called again at three by my aunt, who, in spite of all my remonstrances, had nersisteq in getting ug to _s_ee_us

off. The car was already loaded, and I took the wheel, with Maonlool at my side. As the engine was started Henderson leant forward and whispered to me—■. _ “Be sure to give me time, sir; I dinna want to miss the fight I” A few seconds later we were heading southwards. CHAPTER XIIL ' We had a quick run into Edinburgh, and four o’clock was chiming when.' we turned out of Princes Street down the road that leads to England. It was a bitterly cold night, and very dark, but the car had good headlights, so driving was easy. Besides, I knew the road, and there was little traffic. As we left the city behind, our speed increased. The hum of the engine made me drowsy, for my few hours’ sleep hadn’t been nearly enough, and Macnicol was not the sort of companion to keep one awake. He sat sucking at his pipe, hardly uttering a word except to answer my questions. I tried to discuss our chances with him, but he waa convinced that all would go well. “Her ladyship," as he occasionally called Miss Graham, much to her secret gratification, had ordered our actions, therefore every thing was sure to be right. And yet I knew that something was worrying the man—some little detail that he thought should have been different. ’What ft was I couldn’t even guess at, until suddenly he blurted out — "ilnteet, Mr Graham, it is a pity.” “What is?" I asked. “The day, sir. ’Tis a terrible shame it -not being the Saturday.. The Sabbath is not a good time for these kinds of employments; on the Saturday it would have been better." So that was it. His puritanical conscience felt that Sunday was not the fit and proper occasion for fighting. Fighting was one of the week day “employments.” Oh the seventh day the army should keep to its tents. “Look here, Macnicol," said I, “do you know the kind or men we are up against? They are Bolsheviks, who don’t regard the 'Sabbath. They hate ill religion, and want io do away with it.”

“Are there not Chirstlans, then, in Russia, Sir?” he asked.

“Very few now," I said thoughtfully. “'Many 'Russians are good people, but it is those in power—the real rulers of the land—-who are bad. Most of them aren’t' even Russians. They have forbidden nearly all religious observances, and destroyed many of the churches. They’d do the same in Scotland also if they had the chance.” ' -

“Destroyed the churches!” he gasped in horror. “Gootness gracious, what an awful like thing. The Lord would never permit it. Do you really think, sir,, we will-be helping to atop these outrageous, notions.?" “Most certainly,” I assured him. “We will be smiting the AmSlekltes, so to speak; and surely even the Sabbath is an excellent day for that.” Macniool heaved a sigh of deep relief. “You have brought me a great comfort, Mr Graham,” he said. ■“ ’Tis myself will enjoy the smiting of them.” He took along draw at his pipe. “ Hip and thigh,” he muttered, “hip and thigh.” Poor fellow, little did he know. But the possibility of our falling never seemed to enter his head; ?and your true Highlander has an amused'contempt for anyone not of his bwh.sto.ck. . “Two of these will be Sassenachs, and the -other just some foreign buddy,” he remarked complacently. “They might be after frightening folks in the towns, but away in the country it will be different.” About half an hour but of the capital we began to climb the Moorfoot Hills, ft was even colder here, and a slight drizzle of rain was falling,, but the engine responded nobly to the increased pressure on the accelerator pedal, and soon we were slipping down the other side. Then came -Galashiels, its deserted streets looking damp and dismal. As we sped along the valley of the Tweed; not far from Abbotsford, Macnlool grew almost talkative. “And to think, Mr Graham, that yon bonny stories were written here,” he said with deep interest. “Inteet, and Sir Walter Scott was a great man. I expect ho would have liked to be with us this day.” After Howick we -climbed again. The country became more desolate, the trees fewer, the glare from our lights, showed up patches of snow in the hollows, and the rain changed to sleet. By six-thirty we were close to our destination. The road led down steeply •to a small bridge across a mountain stream. This was the place spoken of by Wace. Lethy Keep stood only a quarter of a mile away to the rigfit, and beyond the bridge a rough track, at the edge of a burn, twisted up towards it. ... I stopped the car, and we left the sacks behind a heap of stones on the roadside, as we didn’t want to carry -them farther than could be helped. Then we went on to KilnocWe. The village is only a tiny collection of houses grouped round a little shop where one can purchase anything from a hairpin to a packet of sheep-dip, ■and hear all the local gossip retailed -free. Mrs Cameron, the late proprietress, had sold me many a bag of sweets when I was a small ’hoy, and we had always been staunch friends. She had long since Joined hep husband in the churchyard down -the glen, but. my aunt had said that the son, “young Sandy,” now ruled fii her stead. Sandy had taught me how to “ guddle " fish In the burn, and surely he could be counted on to help us. . .(To be continued.}.