The Gay Adventurers

Taranaki Daily News, 28 October 1935, Page 13

The Gay Adventurers

By

Capt. E. C. Cox

(Author of “Achievements of John Carruthers,” etc., etc.)

CHAPTER 11 (continued)

“It does indeed, dear, but all’s well that ends well. But what am i to say to Gilmore? I must invent some reason for our sudden flitting.”

The petrol arrived, and they were off by break of day. No one noticed their departure. The town was sleeping off the effects of yesterday’s debauch. Thompson was awake, but he preferred not to see the visitors again. He was feeling sore at heart, and worn out with the * mental struggle that he had undergone. “Here we are,” said Bingo as they descended in the Bombay aerodrome. “Just 10 o’clock. We’ve got a few hours to arrange passages. And I’m starving. I expect we all are. Breakfast at the Taj Mahal hotel is indicated. We can ’phone from there to the P and O. office. There’s not likely to be any difficulty this time of year. People from India as a rule don’t want to arrive in England in the winter.” “I hope you aren’t too terribly put out,” said Sally to Gilmore as they sat down to breakfast, “by our sudden change of plans. You must think us very jumpy people.” “Oh, I’m nuts on flashlight photos. Doing things on the spur of the moment enhances the general excellence of life. But have you any more plans on the programme? If not, I’ll suggest one. There’s a place I’ve never seen, and I feel a call to visit it. Wonder if you’ve been there?” Gilmore looked quite excited. “Where is it?” asked Sally, breathlessly, as she watched the look on his face. ‘‘Monte Carlo! Nothing less.” “Monte Carlo!” echoed Sally. “That’s great! Monte Carlo it shall be,” and she clapped her hands. “Good egg,” said Bingo. “You see if 1 don’t break the bank.” CHAPTER 12. On a fine .bright morning, our friends arrived at Marseilles after an uneventful voyage. . Here Felix said good-bye to them with tears in his eyes, and expressions of the deepest regrets. “Lebe wohl, Dick;. leben sic . wohl, gracious lady.” “So long, old man,” said Bingo, “and take this little present for Gretchen and the kids,” “and give them my love,” added Sally. “Next time I .have one of my delicate diplomatic errands will you come with us?” asked Bingo. “Will I not? I will go with you to the ends of the world.” He shook hands with Bingo and Sally and Gilmore, and Hervey, and so tore himself away. “Not a bad old thing that foreign bird, is- he, sir?” said Hervey to Gilmore. “He’s been teaching me German. I don’t think over highly of that language. There’s too much sputtering in the throat to please me. Der, dis, das business gives me the jumps.” They reached (Monte Carlo in the afternoon, and secured a pleasant suite of rooms in the Hotel de Paris. Sally had revelled in the Riviera scenery as they passed Frejus, Cannes and Nice, and looked back on the exquisite views of the Esterels. She was in raptures with the beauties of Monte Carlo. “This is paradise,” she said as she looked from the hills to the sea and from the sea to the hills, and sniffed in the crisp, delicious air. > “I’m with you, old thing,” echoed Bingo, “but I shouldn’t wonder if you had to keep your eyes skinned for the serpent. This garden of Eden isn’t quite like Caesar’s wife—above suspicion.” “Now,” said Bingo, when they had dined, “what ho! Are we ready for the fray? Just a little flutter at the Casino? Which of us is going to break the bank? Who’s for chemin de fer, and who’s for baccarat? Simple rouge et noir is about my ticket.” “I’ll be ready in a minute, laddie,” said Sally. “But I think a look-see will be enough for me. I’m dying with curiosity to see the place. I feel as if my education had been neglected. But I don’t fancy I should have any luck with the blessed old card-tricks.”

So they entered the historic scene of so many dread tragedies—fortunes lost and souls ruined. Bingo threw some notes on the chemin de fer table. “Just to pay our footing,” he put it, and the croupier automatically raked in his stake. But Sally was overcome by the fetid atmosphere of the rooms, the sense of suffocation and nausea. “Take me away, Bingo,” she entreated. “This is too dreadful. I shall faint if I stay in these fumes. And look at the men and the women, their faces like birds of prey. It’s all to frightful." And Bingo, with a pang of regret, gave her his arm and led her away. “That’s better,” she gasped as she breathed in the fresh air outside. “I couldn’t have imagined anything so foul. No need to keep one’s eyes skinned for the serpent. That place is like a whole nest of vipers. I must have a long walk to shake that beastliness off.” But Gilmore stayed on. He fell to the seduction of the environment. The gambler's spirit was aroused in him. He would break the bank, or have a damned great shot at it. It was at his suggestion that they had come here. He would see it through. He looked at the chemin de fer and the baccarat tables. He gave them a miss; but the rouge' et noir, with the two red and two black diamond marks on which the stakes were laid, gripped him with the grip of an octopus. He put notes for a thousand francs on the red, and the five of hearts was turned up. His winnings were pushed towards him by the croupier’s rake. A lean, skinny hand stretched forward to pick them up. “No you don’t,” he said, “that’s my little lot,” and he collected

the notes. He had doubled his stake. He put all his notes down again on the red, and again fortune favoured him. Five times following the young man, his veins tingling with excitement, plumped on the red, and Dame Fortune flung her favours on him. He was the observed of all observers. Glaring, wolfish eyes seemed to devour him. Now he staked his enormous pile of winnings on the black, and again he won. Then something seemed to snap in him. An inspiration told him that he must stop, or he would lose all. He obeyed the impulse. He stuffed the notes into his pockets, and walked away. He had won fifty thousand francs. He reeled in his exhilaration as if he were intoxicated.

Bingo and Sally walked hand in hand for a longish way along the sea coast. They were curiously silent, but perfectly happy. The road entered a wood, and they came to an iron bench where they sat down, and each smoked a cigarette. Bingo put his arm round Sally’s waist. “This is just it,” he said, and kissed her. “A million times better than the Casino,” she agreed enthusiastically, and they relapsed into happy and contented silence. A three or four days’ old crescent moon showed a faint gleam of light through the trees. “Hullo!” exclaimed Bingo in a little while, “what’s up? Some inebriate reveller on the warpath? Sally, I’ve a hunch that we’re not wanted here. A look-out from behind these bushes, where we can see without being seen, is indicated.” They rose and stood behind some brushwood on which the southern spring had already thrown a thin mantle of greenery, and listened to out-pourings of a ,vay-farer who sauntered leisurely along proclaiming to the world at the top of his voice in what he seemed to think was melody that he would not go home till morning. They could just make out a shadowy form in the dim light. Sally laughed, but Bingo put his hand on his lips. “There’s something up,” he whispered. “There are two other shadows behind.”

Bingo saw the two shadows look round to make sure that they were not observed. All three were very close now. The minstrel had evidently no idea that he was being followed. “So early in the morning,” resounded through the still air. Bingo picked up a piece of wood that lay at his feet. It was rough and hurt his hand, but that mattered not. “Stay here,” he whispered to Sally. The following shadows were just on their prey. Something bright glittered in their hands. With a loud roar Bingo dashed at the foremost of the two and brought the piece of wood crash upon his head. The man dropped his stiletto and fell like a stone. His companion, horrified at this unexpected onslaught, turned to flee, but Sally, who in spite of Bingo’s injunctions, had come out from her hiding place, held out her foot. He tripped over it and fell to the ground face downwards. Bingo instantly sat upon him, and amused himself by rubbing his nose on the rough path. The singer had turned in amazement at Bingo’s battle-cry, and disclosed the startled face of Charlie Gilmore. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “What on earth? Bmgo. and Sally, and these things! Looks as if you’d saved my life. My glory! Heaven bless you both, you dears.” “It looks as if you wouldn’t have got home by morning, or even later, my boy. These gentlemen were just about to interrupt your musical performance. I don’t wonder it annoyed them. It was villainously out of tune. But what’s up? Enlighten us?” “I didn’t have a drop to drink, but I was drunk. It must have been those stuffy rooms, but I’ve won fifty thousand francs.”

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Bingo, and “Fifty thousand, francs!” gasped Sally. “No wonder the wolves were after the lamb, 1 and that the lamb was very tuneful.”

“Singularly untuneful,” said Bingo. “But who comes here? More wolves on the prowl? No, by Jove! it’s the wolf-hounds,” as two gens-d’armes came into view.

“What’s this, Monsieur?” asked one of them, and Bingo narrated what had happened. The gens-d’armes looked at the prostrate men.. “Pierre and Adolph! this is indeed fortunate, Monsieur. We have long wanted these two devils. And what bravery you have shown! But, Monsieur, I trust you will not wish to prosecute. The policy of Monte Carlo is to avoid every possible scandal. If you leave these robbers to us you may be assured that they will not trouble you or anyone else again for years to come, if ever.”

“Righto,” said Bingo. “We’ve no use for the carrion. Work your will on the carcases. We’ll leave them to you.” “And you will not speak about this affair?”

. “The Sphynx could not preserve a more impenetrable silence/’ “A thousand thanks, Monsieur. We salute courageous Englishmen.” “In point of fact,” observed Bingo, as they walked away, “I could do with a drink, and I think I can assume, without making too fine a point of it, that I am not in a minority of one. So here’s to the Hotel de Paris. And I’ll let Charlie make a hole in his fifty thou, and stand the effervescing lotion.”

“Hooray!” laughed Gilmore; and he burst forth into “We won’t be home till morning.”

“Have mercy on us,’ said Bingo, “dry up with that ear-splitting row!”. “Well, Monty’s given us a real adventure,” said Sally, as she sat in a cozy corner and discussed fizzling drinks and pate-de-foie-gras sandwiches. “We can’t look for any more from it. We can just enjoy ourselves in this lovely

place. But no more of that plaguestricken Casino for anyone. I put my foot down.” But though they earned out Sally’s scheme and had a week of delightful enjoyment, Sally was wrong about Monte Carlo having no more adventures for them. The greatest of all was to come. ■, ■ . . . L , Bingo and Sally were sitting at tea one beautiful afternoon on the verandah of the hotel, and were wondering why Gilmore had not joined them, when that lively young man, with even more than his usual liveliness, rushed towards them waving a newspaper in his hand. “Have you seen it, the Daily Sentinel, know; it’s just come in?” he cried. “Beats all the detective stories ever written. I never did! My distant cousin cleared, and he’ll come into his own again. We can hold up our heads. By Jove! we’ll search the whole world for him. It’s splendid! But who’d have thought it of old Warrender?” He held out the paper to Sally who gasped for breath as she saw the heavy head-lines, and then with a quivering voice read out the startling news. Bingo turned deadly pale as she read:

AMAZING DEATH-BED CONFESSION. SIR HENRY WARRENDER’S WILL. VISCOUNT PETTERBRIDGE CLEARED. “We lately chronicled the death of Sir Henry Warrender, Bart., of Hazeldeane Manor, Northumberland, at one time the well known. and popular master of the Hazeldeane fox-hounds, but who for some years past has led a very retired life. By his will he imposed upon his executors the extremely distasteful duty of publishing to the world his extraordinary death-bed confession. The public will remembered that in 1923 Edward Hilton, Viscount Petterbridge, was convicted of a very serious offence, and sentenced to a term of imprisonment. Now Sir Henry Warrender confesses that he brought a totally unfounded charge against this young Viscount, stating that the evidence which he gave in court was false, and that there was not a stain on the Viscount’s character. Sir Henry has passed away, and it is for a higher court to passed judgment on his misdeeds. But the Viscount s family and friends, and indeed the public at large, will feel more rejoiced than we can say at this unlooked for revelation of the truth. We sub-join in extense the codical to Sir Henry’s will which relates to this weighty matter. The King’s pardon will follow as a matter of course. The one source of regret in this happy development is that since the expiration of his sentence the Viscount’s whereabouts have been entirely unknown. But we cannot doubt that wherever he and his countess may be the news, broadcast in the Press, cannot fail to find them. We have thus far spoken of this nobleman as the Viscount, but since the late Earl of Ellesmere died nearly two years ago Viscount Petterbridge is how the Earl of Wavenden. He will be remembered as a fine sportsman and a real country gentleman, who served with honour in the Great War. His estates since the death of the late earl have been administered by trustees. (To be continued).