LADY OF THE NIGHT

Taranaki Daily News, 24 June 1935, Page 15

LADY OF THE NIGHT

(By

Sydney Horlor)

CHAPTER XIII (continued.)

Holiday; laughed. This rogue, master of evil as he was, possessed an impudence which was so colossal as to be actually amusing. . “It was well stage-managed, Stadenfeld; I admit that,” he said. “To be frank, I had a certain doubt about the ( Family History, but the acting of Miss Chartres was* beyond praise. It seems to me a pity, however, that it was not devoted to a • more profitable cause.” “I fail to understand, my dear Holiday,” Stadenfeld, leaning slightly foward, was all polite inquiry. “Your brain-power being so infinite- * ly superior to mine, you should have no ‘ difficulty. At considerable trouble you have brought me to this disused loft . . “I regret that at the . moment it is the best retreat available. To-morrow, perhaps I shall find you better quarters.” ' “Never mind that now. What I was going on to'say is this: Although you have brought me here, it. doesrt’t say that I’m going to do exactly what you wish.” < Stadenfeld’s face creased itself into a characteristic smile. “I think you will—l really think you will,” he said. “Don’t you agree, doctor?” “Oh, quite.” The- medical man might have been supporting a suggested line of treatment in a comparatively simple case. . , “Well, we shall see. Of course, I shall be traced: have- you considered that?” "My dear fellow,’! returned Stadenfeld, aparehtly in the highest good humour, “I have considered everything. No detail has been neglected. Believe me, you have looked your last upon that cnariping ■ pied-a-terre of yours, 221 Mount Street. It is only fair to tell you that.” • . “How sad!” was the comment. ‘ There are, I understand, a certain number of police still in. England—or have things changed since I have been away?” • “There are police, of course,” returned Stadenfeld and his smile was so steadfast that ht- appeared to be enjoying the conversation heartily, “but I should not set any great store upon them,, my; dear :fellow. I .hate to reier so constantly to my own small powers or organisation, but you had evidence the other evening of what I think of Scotland Yard.” . The captive essayed a mild taunt. “You escaped, it’s true, but you had the wind up beforehand, right enough. If you'hadn’t, why did you offer me that thousand pounds to take off the handcuffs?” “Merely a bluff, my dear boy, was the easy reply. “But' since you ask me, I will make you a small revelation, I -took rather a liking to you; although money in your case would not have been any inducement, I imagined that the thrill of adventure might have led you to accept ah offer to join Us. Life, when not playing polo, must bo rather a aul .1 affair to a man like yourself. “So far I haven’t found it so. Where was the fellow leading now? This was obviously an improvisation. “But of course, any chance of that happening has now gone,” declared Stadenfeld- in a change to tone. You have set yourself up against me and must pay the -necessary penalty. As for Bishop and Traill, these two very foolish young nien will be taught a verysevere ' lesson before they _ are much ’ older.' .They will be-so .occupied in look-, ing after themselves that they Wi.l not have any time to spare for you. me, that.is the truth: both have meddled too muck m my affairs.’ Holiday was grateful he did not mention the . girl. Bishop and Traill could be depended upon to look after them- . selves. : Facing danger seemed part ot their daily lives. But the chance .-would she have against these friends? , . But Stadenfeld was speaking again. “As for the girl you sd chivalrously, if foolishly, helped on the Riviera express, we are making . special—very special preparations for-her. We are even now expecting a messenger with news.. I tnS T In not a hard man ”, he want on with a whine -of which Pecksniff himself might not have been “but when I remember the trouble Miss Insall has. caused us, I confess I have a horror of my-better feelings being overcome. In case I should hesitate, how ever, I have-Miss Chartres and the, doctor with' me., They, no doubt, will be a S te?f will!” said Lulu Chartres. There was so much concentrated venom in the words that Holiday shuddered.

CHAPTER XIV.

the chase.

Valerie felt herself become tense. There- was no doubt about this man being Benelli. She could tell by the stoop of the shoulders and the turn of the head. During the nightmare period that he had watched her on the express, she had had time to commit this assassin indelibly to memory. And now he was standing only a few t yards away from her, watching the house in which Gerald Holiday lived. Why was he watching? Was he waiting for Holiday to appear that he might attack him? He must-have followed Holiday to London, either at the bidding of the Organisation or because he was determined to have his revenge on the man by whom he had been outwitted. She must warn Holiday of his danger. She could not do this directly because Benelli, standing outside the house, would be sure to recognise her as she walked past. She must remain where she was,- screened by the doorway of the house in which'she was sheltering, until Holiday showed -■ himself. Directly he did so, she would give him a warning. Even then it would possibly be too late: Benelli might shoot at sight. She shivered with anxiety. If she walked to the nearest telephone, murder might be done whilst she was trying x to get through to Holiday. Even if she > rang the bell of the house in whose doorway she stood and asked to use the telephone on a matter of life and death, tragedy might occur during the few minutes she was away from her post. s. It was essential she should remain. The wait rfiight be one of hours-but when a man’s life was at stake, what mattered personal inconvenience? Swiftly she retreated farther back, into the doorway, pulling the fur collar of her theatre-cloak higher round her neck. Then came a surprise: it was as though the watcher felt that he himself was being watched. Benelli had turned and was walking away—in her direction. She saw him take a look at the-upper windows of No. 221, and then she had to shrink back in case th man should see her. . . Her fear that Benelli had a suspicion he himself was being spied upon was quickly lost; the man walked straight ahead up the street, looking neither to right or left.- If he had turned his head, he must hav< noticed her huddled in the doorway. ' . She could not understand the. meaning of this retreat. Had Be lelli got tired of waiting? This did not seem probable. Was he going to communicate with someone else? That was possible. In any case,'she decided quickly, she must follow the man.. Although the infprma-

tion she had been able to gather at the i Beauvallon villa of -Prince Kuropatin had led her to the belief that the headquarters of the enemy were about to be moved to London, yet neither Bishop nor Traill had been able to get even a hint of where this G.H.Q. might be If she could trail Benelli successfully, a tremendous lot might be gained.. She was out in the road by this time. No. 221 was all in darkness; not a light showed. Perhaps it was because of 'this that Benelli had gone; or perhaps again, he had called at the house on some pretext and had discovered that Holiday was not at home. She must have come on the scene just as he was preparing to leave. No doubt he had halted on the pavement for a moment to consider what he should do next; and then had taken a last glance at the house before departing. Guessing at the truth in this way, Valerie started to walk rapidly up the street. She- must not allow Benelli to get out of sight; already he had a good start. Her heart sank when she saw a motorcar draw up “before the man in Park Lane. Unless sh could be fortunate enough to get a taxi-cab quickly, all hope of following him would be gone; She. saw Benelli—after a short talk with the driver—get into the car. Thpn, forgetting the caution which for the past six months she had endeavoured to form part of herself, she called Taxi, at the top of her voice. • Luck was with her. A passing cab halted. . .“Ere y’are, lydy, said the driver. She rushed forward. Twenty yards ahead, Benelli’s car was gathering speed. “Follow that car—.wherever it goes! she said tensely, and, opening the door, fell backwards as the man, using the intelligence of his class, pushed in the clutch. ... c She found herself softly praying. So much depended upon the driver keeping that car in sight. At the Oxford Street end of Park Lane he had to stop on account of a traffic-jam, but when he got clear the taxi . rattled along at a crazy speed. . ; Soon the imposing building, which she recognised as Selfridges, was reached, and here the taxi took a sudden.turn to the left. She breathed more freely: it would be easier to follow Benelli now than if he had continued down Oxford Street. It seemed likely that he was making for the heights of Hampstead or the country beyond. The surmise was correct. Her man was forsaking the town and fleeing for the open spaces. Finchley Road followed Baker Street, and then, remarkably quickly, Golder’s Green Station was reached. . , ’ ‘ By this time the excitement of the chase made her throw down the window. She. leaned out. , .x. “Cap you still see it?” she asked the driver.- She was forced to shout in order to make the words heard. “Trust me, lydy. It’s ’ell or bust now! George Grainger ain't one to leave a job ’arf done.” . She felt content. Thank God was England. Honest George Grainger, whose broad back induced such a satisfying sense of trust, had asked no questions. He had leapt into the breach, content to serve a lady and to gratify, perhaps, a craving for a little excitement. Valerie felt she could have hugged him. , The taxi, - lurching along at a speed which threatened disaster at every turn of the wheels, kept to the left instead of going towards North Finchley. Valerie recognised an hotel at which, she had once had lunch, and knew they had reached Hendon. Open country was bey<The darkness now increased; lights, were less numerous; she was going into a district that appealed to her imagination as taking: on the character of a blind man tapping his way along with a stick. Strange how her adventures always happened at hight, and in the d Agaiii she leaned out of the window. “Flease do not lose sight of it, Mr. Grainger!” she said. , Perhaps it, was the beauty of the speaker’s voice that made a further appeal; perhaps, again, it was the novelty of being addressed as “Mr. Grainger, but the driver evidenced signs of being deeply moved. . , “Trust me, lydy, the blighter—beggim your pardon—is only jes’ ahead. _At the risk of hastening his departure into another world, he turned his face round. “Want any ’elp, lydy?” he asked. It ain’t for me to push myself, I know, but life’s very dull for a man who once served in a remount depot and ad the ’andlin’ of fifty mules. So tame like. Practically the only bit of brightness now is trying to slip past a copper when ’e’s got ’is ’and up. You’ve only got to say the word, lydy. P’raps someone’s been treatin’ you bad? he went on hopefully. . . , Even in the midst of her anxiety she had to laugh. , “It’s awfully good of you, but— To be continued.)